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mimisempai · 3 years

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Wait for me on the other side 2/8

Chapter Summary:

The mystery becomes clearer... or thicker... in any case a strange correspondence is born...

3888 words

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32948254/chapters/81944953

Alone, in the teacher's lounge, Loki poured himself a cup of coffee. His hands were shaking. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

He didn't hear the principal come in and jumped at the sound of her voice.

"I know about the accident in Vanaheim Square. Carol and I had to get there because there were students from the school on the bus. Fortunately none of them were hurt. The paramedics who knew you were a teacher here, told us you put up a good fight for that man."

Loki sighed, "But it wasn't enough. I may know first aid perfectly, but it wasn't enough." He paused, his throat tight before continuing, "I have to get back to class."

He headed for the door.

"Loki?"

Loki stopped and turned around, Natasha put her hand on his shoulder and said gently, "Do me a favor. On your day off, get as far away from here as you can. Okay? Go somewhere you feel... somewhere that brings you peace."

Loki nodded his head before going on his way.

**********

Mobius left the house and headed for the pickup. Before entering, he slipped a letter into the box and raised the flag, then set off for his work.

**********

At the same time Loki decided to follow Natasha's advice and headed for New Asgard. He drove north of the small village.

The day was clear and bright, with a slight breeze.

He stopped at the small local grocery store where he knew the owners well, to buy his lunch.

He greeted them as they entered the store, "Hi Laura, hi Clint!"

"Hey Loki! Haven't seen you in a while. How are things in the Big Apple?"

Loki shrugged and replied, "Good. I'm getting my bearings little by little"

Clint asked, curious, "What are you doing here?"

"I just needed to get out of the city. Needed the fresh air, and I missed the peaceful life here."

"I hear you, I wouldn't want to come back to the city for anything in the world." replied Laura while bending down.

"What's the matter, honey?"

She stood up straight, a little girl in her arms.

"Hey Lila, how big you've gotten!" exclaimed Loki. "How old are you now?"

"Two." replied Laura. "Say hello to Loki, Lila, you like him don't you?"

"Hi Woki!" chirped the little girl and held out his arms. Loki took her in his arms and pressed a kiss on her forehead. She giggled.

They talked for a few more moments and then Loki headed for the house on the cliff.

Once there, checking first that no one was there, Loki got out of the car and walked through the forest just behind and then went for a long time to admire the lake below the cliff, the wind blowing his long black hair. As the sun began to set on the horizon, he thought it was time to go home, but didn't hurry either.

Just as he was about to get into the car, he noticed the flag raised from the mailbox. Acting on an impulse, he opened it. Inside, there was a single envelope. To his surprise, it was addressed to him.

Loki sat down in the car parked in front of the house, and began to read the letter.

I got your letter. Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?

Because, if so, I don't understand.

Loki frowned as he continued to read.

I am not the "next tenant".

There was no previous tenant.

The house has been uninhabited for over twenty years.

At first I thought maybe you had the wrong place.

But how did you know about the paw prints?

Lok was confused. He pondered for a moment, then reached into his bag to find a pen and paper.

**********

Mobius pulled up in his pickup truck, happy to have finally finished his workday. The flag on the mailbox was up. He opened the box. A letter inside, he recognized Loki's handwriting. He looked at it as he walked along the path to the house. It was from the same address Loki had given him to forward his letter, 105 MacDougal Street - Greenwich Village.

Once inside, Mobius was startled to feel something crawl between his legs. It was the alligator that had left the pawprints. Apparently it had chosen to live here and had figured out how to get in.

Perfect! Now he would have to find out what an alligator might need.

He opened Loki's letter and began to read.

**********

A few hours later, Mobius was waiting in front of the huge building exuding opulence and majesty, overhung by the two familiar letters, TK, Time Keepers.

He smiled as a short, dark-haired man, looking a little younger than him, stepped out.

Mobius shouted, "Casey!"

The younger man, seeing him, exclaimed, "Mobius! What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be busy in your little store."

Mobius replied with a smile, "I'll never be too busy to seek out an old friend and buy him a drink."

Casey answered softly, "I'm really touched."

Then Mobius added sheepishly, "I had to do something in town actually."

Casey laughed and retorted, "It's good to see you." before giving him a hug.

Over his shoulder Mobius saw a woman walk out.

Their eyes met and Mobius whispered, "Ravonna." The woman froze before continuing with a quick step. Mobius watched her go.

"Come on Casey, let's get out of here."

A little later, at a bar in Manhattan, Mobius and Casey are sitting at a table with burgers and beers.

Casey asked him, "So, how's life in your little store?"

Mobius smiled before answering, "Well, it was a challenge starting out on my own, sometimes it's frustrating depending on the clientele, but basically I..."

Casey finished his sentence, "Say no more, you're enjoying yourself."

Mobius nodded, "That's right, I'm also my own master and all in all it works out pretty well."

Casey toasted with his drink can, "I'm happy for you."

"Mind you, I bought a house.."

Casey's eyes widened, "So your business is actually doing really well."

Mobius chuckled, "I mortgaged up my underwear. But I don't regret it."

Casey took a sip of beer and asked him, "You never regretted leaving TK?"

Mobius shook his head, "Even though I know you like working there, this big conglomerate was not for me. When we wanted to create it, it was to give everyone access to quality watches at a fair price, but Ravonna got lost in the process. Does she ever ask about me?"

Casey shook his head, "She's too busy making money, and I don't think she likes me, I thought she was going to fire me today, because I didn't sell enough watches."

"Don't worry, you know her tantrums, she'll be like she used to be tomorrow."

They continued the evening, chatting happily.

Mobius offered to drop Casey off at his house before heading home.

"If you don't mind, I'd just like to mail a letter before I leave."

He parked his pickup around the street corner and walked, looking for an address.

He said aloud, "105 MacDougal Street - Greenwich Village."

Casey, who had followed him, asked, "What is it?"

Mobius looked around, puzzled, and replied, "I'm not sure."

"Who lives there?" inquired Casey, curious.

"I don't really know."

Mobius checked three times, but he was in the right place. Except there was only a recently dug foundation, no habitable building.

He took the piece of paper out of his pocket. The last letter from Loki. The return address was correct: 105 MacDougal Street - Greenwich Village

Mobius stared at the letter because he noticed something odd. It was dated March 31, 2021.

**********

Loki walked through the hallways of the school, examining the new letter from Mobius.

There must be a mistake, I tried to mail the letter in person, but there is no habitation at this address, it's just a foundation.

And the date is wrong too.

Loki, annoyed, scribbled a note and as soon as class was over, he went to put the letter in the box.

**********

In the house on the cliff, Mobius was reading the last letter received in his kitchen, leaning against the counter.

I received your last letter.

I don't know if you will get the answer, but I want to get to the bottom of it.

By the way, for some reason the mail is not getting through to me. I still have to drive here to get it.

Anyway, all this to say that I didn't make a mistake with the address.

I know where I live thanks! Ok, it's ugly, but it's not a foundation either.

And I'm not stupid either, it's 2021.

Mobius laughed at what seemed to him to be a foolish joke and continued reading.

Just out of curiosity: what year do you think it is?

**********

On his couch with a glass of wine in hand, Loki studies Mobius' latest note.

It's 2019

SO PLEASE STOP BULLSHITTING ME.

Loki laughed, incredulous. Croki looked at him.

He patted his head while thinking, before getting up and walking over to his dresser and from a drawer he pulled out a shoebox full of pictures.

He began to rummage through the photos. He came across a photo he had forgotten about, him as a younger man with his then girlfriend, Sigyn. They were in each other's arms, laughing, in love.

He looked at it for a second, then put it away and continued searching.

He finally found the photo he was looking for. It showed Loki and others, outside at night, wearing T-shirts and jeans, with snow falling around them.

He turned it over. On the back is a date printed by the developer: APRIL 3, 2019.

**********

The wind was blowing hard when Mobius arrived home to find the flag on the mailbox raised. Inside was a new letter from Loki. He picked it up and ran across the road, because the sky was really starting to darken.

While preparing his meal, he read the letter.

Since you don't believe me, I'll give you a little warning.

There was a bad flu in the spring of 2019.

I remember it because it snowed suddenly in early April and for a long time.

After that, everyone got sick.

Mobius rolled his eyes and looked at the calendar, today was April 2.

He continued to read.

So, my mysterious pen pal, if you really are where... or when... you say you are...

I hope you are getting plenty of rest and drinking lots of herbal tea and eating fruit to store vitamins.

Warm milk with honey is also effective. And above all, cover yourself well.

Mobius chuckled, "Snow, right."

He crumpled up the letter and went to throw it away.

As he opened the trash can, he suddenly began to sneeze.

After a few seconds, the realization fell on him and he turned back to the bay window.

A magnificent sight was displayed before his eyes, although the beauty left him indifferent, so shocked was he by the implication of what he saw.

It was snowing heavily.

Stunned by both the cold that was coming on and what had just happened, he went to bed and slept like a log.

The next morning, he went to the snow-covered mailbox, and after struggling with the flap, he quickly slipped in a letter and closed the box, almost as if he was afraid it would bite him. He pulled up the red flag.

**********

Same day - 2021

Loki opened the box, took out the letter from Mobius and then lowered the flag.

He pulled out the letter, which had only one line.

CAN THIS BE HAPPENING?

Loki, with trembling hands, took a pen and answered, then put the letter in the box and raised the flag.

Same day, same place - 2019

Mobius stared at the snow-covered box whose flag had just been lowered and it began to scare him a little. Shaken by a sneeze he rolled into a ball and when he raised his head he saw that the flag was up again. He took a step backwards but after a few moments, curiosity being the strongest, he opened the mailbox with great hesitation and took out... his note. The same as the one he had just put there. Slightly disappointed, but also reassured, he sighed and relaxed.

But when he opened the note, he gasped.

CAN THIS BE HAPPENING?

YES.

**********

April 5, 2021

Loki returned home, a little dazed.

Sensing that something was wrong with his owner, Croki followed him into the living room.

Loki took him in his arms and placed him next to him on the sofa. Croki put his head on Loki's knee and Loki patted his head absentmindedly.

Then Loki took a paper and began to write.

April 5, 2019

Mobius was on his bed, surrounded by used handkerchiefs and still having trouble believing the letter from Loki that had just arrived in the box.

The alligator, that had really taken up residence in his house, was lying at the foot of his bed.

I don't know about you, but I don't even know the right questions to ask. Can you tell me something that might shed some light?

Mobius wandered around the house, thinking, trying to find a connection, when he arrived at the front door and saw the alligator's tracks in front of the door.

He grabbed a piece of paper from the phone and scribbled quickly.

I think we have the same pet.

Let's do a little test, so that we don't always have to wait for the other to answer, let's meet on April 7th at 10am in front of the mailbox.

He went to put the letter in the mailbox. He raised the flag and went home to crawl under his comforter, exhausted by his cold and the emotions.

April 6, 2021

Loki got up early to drive to the house on the cliff, hoping that his mysterious pen pal had answered him.

His heart pounding, he saw the flag raised and ran to the box, opened it and grasped the small piece of paper with trembling fingers.

He answered and put the note in the mailbox.

Is it a dwarf alligator?

See you tomorrow then ;-)

April 7, 2019/2021 - 10:00 am

This is how, two years apart, an extraordinary letter exchange began, punctuated by the movement of a small flag on a mailbox.

M: Hello and yes it is an alligator.

L: Does it rub against your legs as soon as you come in and follow you around until it gets fed.

M: Yes.

L: I named him Croki.

Mobius looked at Croki at his feet and said, "Nice to meet you, Croki."

The little alligator rubbed at his feet as if it understood.

L: Perhaps we could introduce ourselves properly.

I'm Loki, you know that, and I've just arrived as a literature teacher in an institute for extraordinary students.

M: My name is Mobius. I make and repair antique watches. I have a little store called Miss Minute. This is the mascot of my store.

Loki giggled when he read the name of the store and saw the little drawing next to it. A small watch straight out of a 1950s design. It was actually kind of cute.

He took on a serious look as he read the following words.

M: Okay. I'm still trying to figure that out. If two years from now you're living in a building at 105 MacDougal Street - Greenwich Village... that doesn't exist yet... where are you, uh, "now" in 2019?

L: I'm studying for my PhD in literature at the Brooklyn College of the Arts.

Loki stopped writing and looked around before continuing.

L: And now I'm corresponding in an extremely weird way with someone I've never met. Too, too , too weird!!!

M: What's it like in 2021?

L: It's great. Everyone is driving around in flying cars. We all wear metal colored suits and we all have super powers.

Mobius smiled at the joke before continuing to read.

L: Actually nothing has really changed. No. We're moving to 5G and Samsung and Apple are still competing as much as ever.

I'm going to have to leave, I have class this afternoon. I won't be able to make it for three days, my next day off.

But... one thing worries me. What if, by sending these letters, by communicating in this way, we are accidentally altering the course of time itself, thus changing human history forever?

Mobius reflected for a moment before answering.

M: You're right, let's not do that.

Mobius posted the letter and went into the house, Croki as usual rubbed at his feet and started following him around.

"Croki! That's enough!"

He took the alligator in his arms and placed it next to where it used to eat. "You wait here and stop following me."

For three days he repeated the same trick several times until Croki quietly waited actually near his bowl. He gave him a small piece of fresh fish to congratulate him, "Good boy.

Despite what they seemed to have decided, he then wrote a small note and went to put it in the mailbox, which he raised the flag. He just hoped that Loki would still come and check.

April 10, 2021

Loki read the letter again as he entered his apartment, having understood absolutely nothing.

Sorry, I did change one little thing.

Loki closed the door and while he expected to be almost knocked over by Croki who always came to slip between his legs, nothing.

He went to the kitchen and was surprised to see Croki waiting for him next to his eating place.

No need to thank me.

Loki laughed out loud in a way he hadn't in a long time.

**********

The next day, sitting in class waiting for the next students, he was still wondering how he could thank Mobius.

When suddenly appeared shyly on the doorstep, Kamala.

Which was strange, because the bubbly girl was anything but shy, and especially not with him.

Surprisingly, since she knew that he specialized in Norse mythology, she had become attached to him and it was not uncommon for her to linger at the end of a class to discuss with him some point of her reading on the subject.

Natasha and Loki's colleagues had told him that this was the first time since Kamala had arrived that someone had managed to channel her energy.

"Ahem Professor... Loki?" she wore her strange oversized red scarf as always.

"Loki will be enough as always, Kamala." replied Loki softly to her.

"Come in."

She walked over and put something on his desk.

"Um... I wanted to thank you, because you always take the time to answer me no matter when I come and no matter what my question is, so I made you this little something myself."

Loki, touched, unwrapped the small package, he took out a green scarf, obviously hand-knitted, whose workmanship looked a bit like the one the girl was wearing all the time.

He looked up and said in a soft voice tightened by emotion, "Thank you Kamala, that's very thoughtful of you."

"You're welcome! See you later." She left as always with her bouncy step.

Loki contemplated the scarf for long minutes, it had been a long time since anyone had had such a thoughtful gesture for him, and especially for something he had done.

"Congratulations professor."

He looked up at the owner of the voice that had pulled him out of his thoughts.

It was the gym teacher, Thor.

"What?"

"You are one of the chosen few who have the privilege of being among the people Kamala respects the most. She only gives this kind of personal gift to people she holds in high regard."

"Oh..."

Thor leaned against the doorframe.

"I came to invite you for tonight. We're having a movie night with colleagues, the ones you know, at the Bi-frost. Interested?"

A while ago, Loki would have refused, but tonight, perhaps because of Mobius or thanks to him, he decided to accept.

"I'll come, thanks for having thought of me. What movie?"

"You've got mail. After class we'll meet at the door and go together."

A few hours later, they were discussing the movie over beers and burgers. There was Heimdall, Thor, Bruce, Carol and even Natasha the principal.

Carol laughed at the main characters, "Honestly, it's really stupid this match,

falling in love over words, I'd go to her as soon as I knew who she was."

Loki squeezed Mobius' last letter into his pocket before speaking, "I find there is something pure about it. A correspondence, free from social barriers, appearances, free from the past...no need to worry about details. There's something exciting about it."

Loki didn't realize that they were all looking at him, surprised to see him showing so much passion.

Thor elbowed him, "Do you have someone in your life Lokes?"

"Hm?"

Natasha looked at him knowingly, "It's hard not to notice that you're writing or reading letters all the time."

Loki blushed slightly, "It's not that kind of relationship, although it's true I've never met him."

"Why?" asked Carol, curious.

"Let's just say it's... complicated."

Seeing that Loki didn't feel like talking about it, the others changed the subject and they continued to have a pleasant evening.

As he left for home later, Loki felt a pleasant warmth. For the first time in a long time, he no longer felt lonely.

He pulled Kamala's scarf tighter around his neck in the cool spring evening. Suddenly he knew how to do something for Mobius.

The next morning, he went to clothing stores in search of what he had in mind.

Three hours later, at the house on the cliff, he put a letter in the mailbox with a small package. He raised the little flag and headed back to town.

April 12, 2021

Mobius had just gotten up, and like every morning since the beginning of this strange correspondence, he went to check for mail and was pleasantly surprised to see the little flag up.

He returned a little later with a letter and a small package.

He opened the package and took out a black scarf adorned with small silver watches. He put it around his neck and sat down with a coffee in his armchair and started to read the letter.

Thank you for educating my little Croki. Here is a little gift to thank you.

Put this on and don't take it off for the rest of the month. It will be cold until the end of April.

Mobius tightened the scarf around his neck and smiled softly.

Mobius, I don't know if what we're doing will change the course of time, but what I am sure of is that it is affecting my life in a positive way, so I don't want to stop.

This connection I have with you has allowed me to reach out to others and for the first time since I left home, I don't feel lonely anymore.

I don't want to stop.

But if you want to, I will, all you have to to is to let me know about it.

In 3 days at 7am I'll come for your answer.

Yours, Loki.

_______

What will Mobius answer? Is he ready to continue this strange long-distance relationship... or rather long-term...? Answer in the chapter 3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd and english is not my native language I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless🥰

#Lokius fic #Lokius #alternate universe #no power #professor Loki #Watchmaker Mobius #based on the Lakehouse #developing relationship #penpal #moki #wowki

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youngster-monster · 5 years

Text

day twenty-eight // Dance

[a.k.a the masquerade fic]

[Lek belongs to @arcquos. Sable and Thyme belong to baronetcoin]

The Revelry is a novelty. A festival of rebirth for a City that has only begun the process of healing from the wounds left by the Red War. It's a celebration of survival, of hope and joy. Traveler knows they need those.

And that’s all well and nice, but it’s lacking something. A climax. A final event that says, we did it, we're alive, we'll make the most of it. A way to truly relieve pent-up energy, a party like none other. Something bright and colorful and terribly, wholeheartedly extra.

"A masquerade?"

Ikora shrugs lightly. The idea is odd but sound: Guardians are used to keeping their faces obscured but never in a way that is more fun than practical, and civilians never say no to wearing a disguise. Eva Levante nods absently, her mind already miles ahead, considering the costumes she could design.

"Isn't is dangerous, to gather so many masked, anonymous strangers into one place?" Zavala asks. They couldn't check everyone – anonymity is the point, after all.

"What major threats are we still facing? Uldren is back in his prison cell, and it's not like any other enemies of humanity could easily disguise as human with a mere mask," Ikora says. She stirs her tea once, twice, slowly, giving him time to come up with a response. When he doesn't she adds, "We won, my friend."

"The peace might not last."

"Another reason to celebrate it while we still can."

He nods, conceding the point. "It's... Not a bad idea,” he admits. “Guardians and civilians could both use the distraction. Cayde?"

The Hunter Vanguard startles out of his thoughts. "Yeah?"

"Your opinion on the matter?"

"Huh- yeah. It's good. Good idea! Dancing's fun. And it would be a fun challenge for my Hunters. I can make them run around and play Guess Who."

"So it's decided." Zavala claps his hands with finality, signifying the end of the meeting. "Eva, I trust you'll be able to organize this event yourself?"

"Amanda Holliday mentioned her involvement in similar events before I came back. I'm sure she'll agree to help me if I need anything."

"Good. Send any requests for funds and materials my way, I'll make sure they're fulfilled in the shortest delay."

If there's anything Eva enjoys, it's putting Guardians to work. They're a dutiful, hardworking lot and follow her directives with few questions and great effectiveness. And they always seem so... Impressive. Untouchable. Larger than life. It's fun to see a little old lady like herself boss them around.

"No, no- this banner isn't straight.”

A few of the guardians helping her giggle as one shoots back, "Neither am I, maybe that's why this isn't working."

She rolls her eyes. "Higher on the left side, please."

"Yes ma'am!"

So polite too.

Guardians also like to be bossed around, she thinks as a Warlock jumps up to the banner. They hover next to it, lifting it inch per inch until their friend back on the ground gives them a thumbs up. Something cracks as they let themselves drop down, and they briefly buckle as their broken ankle stops supporting their weight.

Eva can't help a brief moment of worry, even as their Ghost appears to heal them. Guardians are so reckless! She gets halfway to a heart attack whenever she sees them take undue risk out of habit or disregard of their personal safety.

"Miss Levante, ma'am? We put the flowers up like you asked."

She turns to the second group of Guardians. They're covered in flower, petals stuck in their hair and the folds of their ornate outfits, as if they tried to clean themselves up but gave up halfway through it. The Titan has a whole branch of wisteria hanging over her shoulder pad. Someone has been throwing flowers around. All three of them, she guesses.

Still, a glance behind them shows the job was done well enough. She claps her hands. "Good work! Why don't you help your friends here clean up, and then you can go help yourself to the cookies on my desk?"

They exchange excited looks before running off toward the first fireteam, throwing her hasty goodbye as they go.

She shakes her head fondly. Mention sweets – or festival garments – and they're like children again, running around, desperate to please her in exchange for a treat.

She takes a look around to check their handiwork while they chatter in excitement in the background. The City square they have taken over for the Masquerade is looking quite festive already. Flowers cover the walls of nearby buildings, sometimes hiding and sometimes highlighting the colorful flags and banners hung alongside them. Garlands of lights and dyed cloths are strung overhead, casting colorful shadows on the passerby. It wouldn't look too out of place in a fairy tale. She's pretty proud of their work.

It's a group effort. The best things usually are.

"I'm hungry."

"I know, Lek."

"And my feet hurt."

"I know, Lek."

"And I'm tired..."

"I might repeat myself, but I know, Lek."

Lek hits Razel over the head with her stack of paper.

"Hey!"

She tries again, but this time he's expecting it. He parries the attack with his own stack, feints, and aims for her side. She dodges. When he tries to follow after her she trips him and he goes flying, only avoiding falling on his face by some Warlock bullshit miracle even he isn’t sure how he pulled off.

"Asshole," he says without bite.

She giggles, though she’ll deny to her death that’s the sound she made. "Yeah."

The two of them were put on street corner duty because of those kinds of antics. They weren't trusted to do anything else. Turns up being competent and successful Guardians means jack shit in terms of party planning. Neither of them know how to hammer a nail in a way that doesn't threaten the structural integrity of the entire wall – something they discovered only after the fact. Whoops.

Which is how they ended up here, handing out flyers for the upcoming masquerade. No one can fuck up flyers-handing. Well, maybe they could, actually: Lek's original plan was to go somewhere very high up and throw them down so they'd fall all over the City, saving them the effort. Ralek would have gladly gone with it, too, but Ikora saw them climb up a building and sent them back down with a stern warning to stay out of sight for at least a whole afternoon.

But an afternoon is a long time to be hanging out flyers for, and they're so bored.

Nothing good ever comes out of the two of them being bored.

"You know," Razel muses after giving a curious woman one of his flyers, bringing his stack down to a little over half of its original height, "This would go a lot faster if we'd split up."

"Yeah but imagine how boring that'd be. I'd probably be asleep already."

"A nap sounds good right now..."

She waves her own stack. "I think you're missing the point of the exercise."

He hums, unconvinced. Stares down at the flyers, wondering why he never learned how to nap with his eyes open.

"Hey," He says after some reflection time. "Bet I can get rid of these faster than you."

Lek's eyes come alight at the word 'bet'. She turns her laser focus on him and lifts a hand – bets are a tradition, among Hunters, and so is the use and abuse of loopholes. Better lay some ground rules. She counts off her fingers and rattles off, "One flyer per person, no throwing any in the trash, thirty minutes time limit, whole city is fair game-" She pauses, waits for an objection that doesn’t come. She grins like a cat and bends her last finger. "Have fun."

Then she's off like a shot, jumping to the roofs with her stack of paper clutched in her fist. Razel blinks, processing the last seconds, then takes off the other way.

He throws flyers at passing people, stuff them in bags and mailboxes and the unsuspecting hands of small children. They're not exactly the target audience but a child technically counts as a person, and that's one more flyer to give once he's already thrown one to each parent.

He doesn't try to give out stacks or to throw them away. A bet is a bet: he's honor bound to the terms of the contract. And it's more fun that way anyway. He laughs at the baffled look on strangers’ faces when he runs past them, barely slowing down to slam a colorful paper in their hand.

He's down to a single flyer when the comes back to the rendezvous point with fifteen seconds to spare. Lek appears moments later, her stack reduced to one as well.

They look at each other.

Ten

Razel runs toward her–

Nine

She jumps to the side, rolls and jumps back to her feet–

Eight

His momentum makes him stumble on the pavement–

Seven

He skids to a stop–

Six

Flails his arms to keep his balance–

Five

Turns around–

Four

Leaps–

Three

Reaches out–

Two

Gives a little boost of Warlock power to his jump—

One

And stuffs his last flyer in her pocket, just as the thirty minutes alarm rings.

He loses balance a second after and falls over her, sending them both to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

"I win," he says, breathless from the exercise and the cape twisted around his neck.

"I'll buy you a drink," she says, and kicks him in the stomach to get him out of her cape.

"Hey is it me or is Zavala having fun?"

Ikora is busy watching Zavala when Cayde appears out of the blue and comes sit on her desk. She’s used to it enough she doesn’t even jump, just scout to the side to make space for him.

A dozen feet from them, Zavala and Eva are talking animatedly about... Costume designs, she hazards. By the look on her face, Eva doesn't approve of the Commander's taste in color schemes. No one sane of mind ever does.

"He enjoys having an occasion to dress up," she tells Cayde, eyes never leaving the spectacle of Zavala trying to look firm and dignified while waving his arms around.

"I thought he could only have fun with military strategy and crocheting. And reading poetry. Maybe building model ships in bottles.”

"He has the heart of an artist."

"And the fashion sense of a four year old on a sugar high?"

She chuckles. "Yes, that too."

Bold colors make bold statements seems to be his motto in most aesthetic-related things. And Zavala do love making bold statements.

They watch as Eva seems to beat some sense into him. Zavala nods, apparently satisfied by her proposition, and they bend together over the papers scattered on Eva's desk.

"I'm glad," Cayde says out of the blue.

Ikora mentally traces back the thread of their discussion, trying to find what he's referring to. "That he's having fun?"

"Yeah. He needed that. We all did." He leans back on his perch, somehow never dislodging the precarious piles of books behind him. "A stressed Vanguard isn't good for morale. Guardians can sense those things, you know?"

She smiles, almost despite herself. Out of all of them, Cayde is the closest to the guardians they guide. It's always heartwarming to see how concerned he gets for their well-being, and how much he tries to pretend he doesn't.

"About stress relief-" he turns fully to her, scooting as close as he can without falling off the desk. "You said you'd come eat ramen with Razel and me tonight."

She sighs. "I know, Cayde, I'm sorry. I was busy. I'll come next time."

"You won't have to."

She blinks, startled, and turns to the new voice. Razel grins, the way he does when he manages to sneak on someone — a rare occurrence — and bounces up to them. His hands are full with white plastic bags, so he greets her with a gentle bump of their shoulders.

"You got the goods?" Cayde asks.

He drops the two bags on the table. "Spicy ramen for three, two cans of beer and one cup of tea, to go," he rattles off like something learned by heart. "Also, dumplings."

They high five. Ikora watches, bemused.

"If you don't come to the ramen, the ramen will come to you," Cayde says wisely.

Razel nods very seriously and jumps on top of her desk, next to Cayde. Fitting them all in what little space there is in-between the books is a balancing act he only partially succeeds at. A few piles wobble worryingly as he settles in place. He steadies them with a panicked glance to Ikora.

She only shakes her head, long suffering, and chooses to ignore she near catastrophe. "Thank you, Cayde," she says.

"You're welcome! My only contribution to this was coming up with the genius idea and making Razel pay the bill." He ducks the balled up napkins thrown at him, laughing. “You owed me Glimmer! And a few favors.”

Razel squints at Cayde, unwilling to concede the point but aware Cayde is right. He huffs, crosses his arms. “You’re lucky it was for Ikora, you lazy tin man.”

Ikora picks up her ramen cup with a soft smile as they keep bickering.

Cayde and Razel don't do much eating, in the end. They're too busy trying to pilfer slices of meat and dumplings from the other's plate, and stabbing each other with their chopsticks in retaliation. They get into a vicious chopsticks war for a minute, trying to get a hold of the last dumpling.

They're having fun, though. So is she, she realizes as she takes advantage of the distraction and deftly picks the dumpling off the plate, shoving it in her mouth before they can try to reclaim it.

Maybe Cayde is onto something with that whole "stress relief" thing.

They're playing cards when Cayde brings it up.

"Are you coming?"

Razel looks up quizzically. It's not wise to look away from a game with a Hunter it’s not like he’s not losing already. He's pretty sure Cayde isn't even cheating this time. Holliday might be but her poker face is too good for him to tell. Being half raised by a gambling addict robot will do that to you. That’s the thing, though: she’s gonna beat him whether or not she’s cheating. She's got year of training with Cayde, and he only got into cards like... Two months ago.

He didn't they were going anywhere, but he's been wrong before.

"Coming where?"

Cayde snickers, opens his mouth to reply, but Holliday kicks him in the knee before he can say whatever he had in mind.

"To the masquerade,” she says. "You know, the thing you gave out the flyers for?"

"Bold of you to assume I read those."

She snorts. "I kinda assumed so, yeah. Do you have any threes?"

"Go fish."

Cayde leans back, stretching his legs under the table. He nudges Razel with his foot. "So. You. Masquerade?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, I'm going, if I find anything to wear. You?"

"Free drinks and the opportunity to watch Zavala dance? You bet your ass I am. Amanda?"

"Ellie has been dragging me around the City looking for a couples costume," Holliday says, looking kind of dead-eyed at the thought of shopping. "At this point I don’t think I have a choice."

He's not sure he has ever seen her dressed in anything other than her usual shipwright outfit. He doesn’t quite manage to imagine her in civilian clothes.

"What are you going as?" He asks Cayde, who seems to have it all figured out.

Cayde winks.

"You'll see," he singsongs.

"Come on!"

"Give it up, pal, I already tried," Holliday sighs. "He won't talk."

Cayde shrugs, unapologetic.

"It's more fun that way."

Razel drops his cards on the table and falls on his back, groaning. "I don't know what to wear," he whines.

"Ask Eva. Or Ikora."

In the corner of his eye he sees the two of them pick up his cards, share them between their hands. He doesn't think they're playing Go Fish anymore.

He likes watching them play, the easy confidence with which they slide cards in and out of their sleeves, the distracted way Cayde drums his fingers – bare, for once, metallic blue scratched to chrome in places catching the light of the hangar. It speaks of an old habit. Years playing together, learning each other's tells.

He yawns.

"I'm gonna... Take a nap," he says quietly. "Wake me up for dinner."

"Sure thing, buddy."

He's going to wake up with a backache, but that's a problem for future Razel.

Razel did end up going to see Eva Levante for his costume. And because she's a bit of a miracle worker, a bit like magic, she managed to make him one in the few days left before the Masquerade.

The sun sets on the last day of the Revelry, setting the City alight in shades of pink and gold. The streets fill with people, in groups or alone, all covered in colorful outfits and fantastical masks. The air rings with excited chatter and laughter. With the way they act one could think they have been waiting for this night for years, not weeks.

Considering it’s the first of its kind, maybe they have been waiting for years, unconsciously, for an occasion to dress up and dance like nothing else matters.

Razel is in Eva's tent so she can do last minute adjustments on his outfit. He shakes his head left and right while she pokes him with needles, grinning at the jingle of the bells on his hat.

She dressed him like a jester from old Earth stories, all in shades of blue and green and purple. All his clothes bear pattern. His pants are striped, his billowing sleeves covered in colored diamond shapes. It’s a wonderful, vibrant headache. She covers the lot with a long sleeveless coat, embroidered with flowers and vines and little skulls. Shiny pearls and baubles hang off the high, flared collar, catching the light when he moves around.

"Do you like it?" Eva asks.

He grins. "Hell yeah. It looks incredible."

She smiles in return, satisfied. "Good. Try the mask on."

He obediently ties the mask around his head. It only covers the top half of his face and doesn't do much to hide his identity. But he feels like anonymity isn't really the point of the event, in the end.

It’s about the drama, the extravagance, she told him. He trusts her professional opinion on the matter.

Eva takes a step back to admire her handiwork. At her command he spins slowly in place, showcasing her own handiwork.

She claps her hands with a huge grin.

"Well, I think we're done here," she says brightly.

He looks at her in confusion. "What about payment?"

She waves him off. "No need for that. You're the hero of the Red War. It's the least you deserve."

It's way too nice a title considering the only thing he did was shoot in whatever direction the Vanguard pointed him toward. But it is nice, and Razel never says no to free stuff.

"Thanks ma'am!"

"You're very much welcome. Now shoo. Go have fun!"

He nods, grinning right back at her, and leaves.

Lek is dressed as a white duck.

Razel was not aware that she’d be dressed as a white duck.

Incidentally, Razel almost died tonight when he burst out laughing at the sight of her costume.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He screams, laughing too hard to dodge her fist. He staggers back, every bell sewed to his costume jingling at the brusque movement. “You look good! It matches your hair!”

“Damn right I do,” she says, in a way that implies he will definitely be thrown over a railway if he contradicts her.

In his defense, the idea is hilarious. Well executed, but ridiculous.

The white mask is bordered with fluffy white feathers that melt into her hair, and the bright yellow bill shadowing the lower half of her face almost doesn’t look ridiculous. Her round, feather-covered dress is another thing entirely. It isn’t goofy, not quite, but… The image of Lek in a dress is just way to weird for him to take seriously.

Well. It is kinda goofy.

But it’s true: it looks good on her. If only because she wears it with the same dignity and certainty as her usual Hunter getup. It gives it a certain air of class.

“Anyway, you can talk, you clown.”

“I’m a jester!”

“Aren’t jesters just another type of clowns? Like fools? And buffoons?”

She’s right. But she shouldn’t say it. He strides off with a huff.

“The party’s in the other direction, idiot!”

He spins around. The bells on his hat jingle merrily, and one of the pointy sleeve things actually slap him in the face when he turns. Lek cracks up as he freezes, confused.

“It’s- a good costume,” she gasps in-between bouts of laughter. “Real fitting!”

Honestly, there’s nothing he can say against it. She’s right. He stills kicks her in the shin as he passes, for good measure.

Night has fallen by the time they finally make it to where the ball is held. The square is already filled with people in garish costumes, a riot of colors and fabrics. It’s… overwhelming. Razel grabs on to the back of Lek’s costume as they weave through the crowd. The feathers slipping between his fingers help ground him. Still he breathes easier once they’re a little out of the way on one side of the square.

“Alright?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’m just not used to… you know.” He waves vaguely, not sure what he’s gesturing at. “People. Didn’t even know there were that many in the City.”

“It’s the last city on Earth, of course there are many people in it.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect that many!”

She shakes her head. “We need to get you around more people. You spend too much time alone in space.”

She’s not the first to tell him that. Won’t be the last, either. He shrugs — if they miss him they can always vidcall him. He gets bored too fast, in the Tower. Lek knows it, too: most of the time she flies off with him, she just comes back more often.

She nudges him with her elbow. “Hey. Wanna go get some drinks?”

He look at the sea of people, then back at her. Then back at the people. Thinks about the fact that he hasn’t eaten anything today.

“Think they got chips back there?”

“What kind of monster doesn’t bring chips with the beer? Of course they do. C’mon.”

In principle, masks are supposed to hide their identity.

In practice, there’s no disguise in the world that could ever hide Shaxx’s voice.

A crowd has formed around him, clearly separated from the rest of the people milling around the square. He’s wearing a knight armor, the kind from far before the Dark Age, and holding a tankard of beer in each hand. His helm doesn’t have any opening yet the cups keep emptying. How he’s doing it, now that’s the real mystery of the night.

They’re playing ‘Who can out-drink Shaxx’, even if it’s not much of a game. The answer is a clear and simple ‘no one’, though Cayde-6 has come very, very close to before, by virtue of being a robot.

(Shaxx not being one is still up to debate, so it’s still an impressive achievement.)

But a drinking competition is always a fun challenge. The guardians flocked to it. If the Crucible taught them anything, it’s that Shaxx and a good, competitive time are near synonyms. Civilians were quick to join in once they noticed the commotion — they like competition just as much as Guardians, they’re just more likely to get alcohol poisoning.

One thing leading to another, they ended up with two teams facing off next to the drinks table in some unholy combination of beer-pong and a drinking contest.

The goal, officially: get the opposite team trashed before yours. Then someone suggests Shaxx finishes the remaining drinks of the winning team, and it becomes a race to get the Lord of the Crucible as drunk as possible before they run out of participants sober enough to compete.

One of the competitors sways in place as she throws the ball. It goes wide and the momentum of the throw seems to throw her back as well. She falls over her team and almost bring a few down with her like bowling pins. Her friends appear out of the crowd to drag her away, ribbing her for being a lightweight.

Cheers rise in the crowd as they wave her off. She manages a sloppy salute in return before a friend pushes a cup of water in her hands. She focuses all her attention on it, staring down the cup as if it holds the secrets to the universe, Darkness, and everything.

"Who will take her place in the red team?" Shaxx bellows. "Come on! You cannot know yourself without testing yourself!"

Someone steps out, wearing a wolf pelt over their head. The muzzle shadows their face; it's hard to discern their face in the low light of the square.

"I'll show you how it's done," the stranger says as he joins his team.

Laughter rings through the group. "Sure you will, old man!" Someone on the other side calls out.

As a matter of fact, yes, he does.

His aim is excellent – he almost never misses. And he sure can hold his liquor. By the end of the round his team is winning by a rather large margin and his luck holds for a few more rounds after that.

He loses a few games, almost by design. Whenever he's in a team with players too drunk or too incompetent to aim, suddenly he can't aim either and the other side ends up winning with most of its drinks intact. Meaning Shaxx ends up drinking most of them.

He's... Definitely trying to get Shaxx wasted. It seems to be working decently, too. The Titan is clearly feeling the effect of so much alcohol in such a short span of time. His voice gets even more excited, he rambles on, gestures more aggressively.

Finally, when he looks properly inebriated and people have started wandering off, too drunk to keep playing, the stranger turns to him.

No words are exchanged and they both have their faces hidden yet an entire conversation happens in a single look. Shaxx puts down his tankards and joins the team opposing the wolf-man. He cracks his fingers, his neck, and takes the ball.

"Try to keep up," Saladin says, mocking.

"Oh, you're going down, old man."

Suraya is not a fan of parties. She doesn't like how stifling the place feels, how closed off, doesn't like the loud music. The costumes are nice and free food is always a plus, but–

She's an outdoorsy kinda woman. She fares better when she can see beyond three feet ahead of her.

She sighs and lifts her mask up to take a sip of her drink. It's nice, she thinks begrudgingly. Not the cocktail – although that, too – but... Seeing people so happy and alive, guardians and civilians alike. She has to admit it was a good idea.

Once again she looks over the people dancing to the tune of a popular song. Out of all the wiggling, jumping people, one of them catches her eyes. His costume – all in shades of brown and black – seems dull compared to the more colorful ones of those surrounding him, setting him apart. The mask entirely makes up for it.

It's a skull. Just... an entire bull skull. That's neat. Bit morbid, but neat.

That's not what makes her notice him, though. Not entirely. It's the weird... thing he's doing with his body. At first she thinks a Fallen somehow managed to infiltrate the City, with how weirdly he's moving. It would explain how he's filling up these sleeves: it's not muscles, it's arms, plural.

But no, closer inspection reveals it's just a regular old human or close relative, doing some approximation of dancing.

There's bad dancing, and there's bad dancing. This is definitely the later. There's no rhythm, no grace, no–

Suraya narrows her eyes. She knows this guy, somehow. The mask slips forward a bit, revealing a flash of bare blue skin before he adjusts it. And by the Light, she'd recognize this bald head anywhere.

"Zavala?" She blurts out, incredulous.

The man, busy looking at whatever his feet are doing, lifts his head at the sound of his name. How he heard it among the noise is a mystery she’s too surprised to linger on. He notices Suraya and makes his way towards her in an awkward shuffle. It’s almost in tune, but it’s not dancing.

Once he’s close enough he greets her with a nod and a simple, "Hawthorne."

She whistles. "Damn, Commander, they let you in with a weapon of mass destruction like that?" She says, gesturing to the dance floor he just vacated.

He glances behind his shoulder, then at her, trying to understand her meaning. She sees it happen when he does, in the jerk of his shoulder, like a repressed laugh. He replies, entirely deadpan,

"I know. My dancing skills have blinded more than one before."

Well, he's not wrong. She has half a mind to poke her own eyes out in the hope of wiping the sight from her memories. Unfortunately hers wouldn't grow back so she'll have to refrain.

He holds his composure about a second before letting out a chuckle. "Ikora has been teaching me for decades," he says. "It's starting to pay off."

"Well if that's the improved version, I'd hate to see the original."

"I'm sure Cayde has recordings somewhere."

She mock-shivers.

"No thanks. I like being able to sleep without nightmares."

They fall quiet, both knowing Zavala's dancing is the least of their problems when it comes to nightmares. Both keenly aware of how rare a dreamless sleep has become, since the Red War.

After a short, tense pause, Zavala clears his throat and says, "Nice mask, by the way."

"Thanks."

"Owl?"

"Yeah."

She takes another sip of her drink. The poncho she's wearing as a costume is bulkier than what she's used to, covering her from head to toe. She went for a creepy barn owl look: from the stares she got from some, it's a success.

"It's good, to see them have fun after-"

"Yeah," she repeats. "I was thinking the same thing. It was a good idea. It's not healthy to hold on to the dead so much and not do anything for the living."

He nods. "Less grieving those we lost, more celebrating those we still have."

"Cheers. I'll drink to that." She salutes him with her cup before taking a long gulp of it. It's sweet and fruity, with a hell of a kick. The gal dealing with the drinks sure knows her job well. He mimics her movement, but doesn't drink. She gets the impression their Commander isn't big on booze. Makes one wonder why he even has a drink in hand. Cayde is her first guess. Or Razel, though one rarely needs to make the distinction, attached at the hip like they are.

For some time after that the two of them stand next to each other in silence. Somehow it's more comfortable than awkward. Though maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised. The two of them are similar in more than a few ways. It makes for easy companionship.

She goes to take another sip of her cup and is disappointed to find it empty. She eyes Zavala's drink.

"You're going to drink that?"

"Ah- no. Here, you can have it."

He doesn't have to say it twice. He watches her take a tentative sip – it's unexpectedly sweet – and only looks away once she's nodded in approval. She wonders, again, why he bothered to get a full cup if he wasn't going to drink it.

With his now free hand he gestures to the dance floor. "See them?" She follows the movement to a matching duo. They're both decked in red. One's an Exo, with just a simple red mask to cover her identity. The other is harder to recognize, dressed as what she guesses to be the Red Riding Hood. "That Exo is one of my Titans."

She looks again, and – no, she can't see it. Without the shoulder pads it's impossible to distinguish a Titan from any other guardian.

Guardians and civilians, it's easy. Guardian have that way of walking around, not quite military, rather the way one walks when they are wholeheartedly attuned to their own body. Combat and repeated resurrection will do that to someone. But guardian classes? Without their pseudo-uniform, it's hard to tell.

"Huh. I wouldn't have guessed. Guess without their whole getup they're just people underneath."

He tilts his head to the side, giving off the impression of a contemplative look despite his masked face.

"Yes," he finally says, his voice weighed down with an odd emotion she's a little too drunk to determine.

He shifts on his feet, adjusts his mask, starts to turn his head towards her and stops. He seems almost— flustered?

She throws him a curious glance. "Something on your mind?"

She expects a few things. She does not expect him to ask, "Do you want to dance?"

Flashbacks of his atrocious dancing comes back to mind. On the one hand it looks as painful to take part in as it is to watch, if not more. On the other, she's pretty sure it would be considered a service to humanity to stop him from embarrassing himself and the art of dancing even further.

She looks at him for a long time, mulling over the question. She chugs Zavala's drink in one go.

"Alright," she says, throwing the two empty cups in a trashcan. "Let's go."

There's something off about the masquerade. No, not off, not quite, but – something strange, definitely.

Ikora can taste it on her tongue like smoke in the air, like ozone before a storm. The arcane energies of the Universe hum around her, static tingles on her skin.

A feeling worth exploring, she thinks.

She rests her back against a nearby wall and closes her eyes. Full meditation is impossible to achieve in such a noisy, bustling place, but she doesn't need a full meditation. She just needs to concentrate–

There.

A burning fire in the midst of candle flames, bright as the sun to her inner eye. She can feel it at the edge of her consciousness, moving...

Coming closer.

She opens her eyes.

"Hello, Osiris."

He's dressed as himself, mostly. It's been so long since he's been in the City, it might be the best costume of all. Who would recognize him as the former Warlock Vanguard or a banished Guardian? Especially in this crowd.

He stops a few feet from her. Not quite hesitant but wary of encroaching in her space. Of what she may do if he poses himself as a threat to her city.

"Ikora," he says carefully. "It's been too long."

And whose fault is that? She doesn't voice the thought. It has been a long time. She moved on from her resentment.

Well, most of it. But she’s not looking for a fight tonight.

"It has," she says, detached. "What are you here for? It must be important, if it could drag you away from your simulations."

He shakes his head. "Sagira insisted. Apparently I need to get out more, or I'll truly become as insane as you think I am."

As insane as we know you are, she thinks ruefully. Though he does not look the part, now. He looks... happy?

His eyes crinkle, betraying the smile his mask covers. "I can see gears turn in your head. What are you thinking?"

She waves her hand. The red fabric of her sleeve seems to glow, embers-warm, under the fairylights. "Nothing important." Then, because it needs saying, for her sake if not his, "It's good to see you. Have you been well?"

He shrugs. "As well as one can be when neck deep in Vex. But what about you? How has the Vanguard position treated you?"

It has been too long, she realizes. After all it was Razel who went after him, the last time. Razel who's been in contact with him, as well. They saw each other, but only briefly. Only in passing.

"I've been well. I enjoy my work, and the people I do it with."

"Silver linings," He says. She can hear his grin and answers it in kind. They both know this position would give them grey hair, if it was possible. "It's hard work, but you've always been a hard worker. I saw you kept up your study, as well."

She blinks. How does he know? "Yes. Yes I did."

"Impressive. I could barely do anything else but Vanguard business, in my time. Makes you admire the wonder of good delegation, hm?" He chuckles wryly. "I liked your papers on the Taken – especially the latest, on the Taken Techeun. It was brilliant."

She has to admit, she's touched he kept up with her. It's good to know he still cares in his own way, even though she wonders when he found the time to read her work. Typical Osiris: never calls but reads all her dissertations.

"Razel helped me gather much of the data," she says, for the sake of honesty.

"And he helped me get a hand on your researches," he replies in kind. "He's a good kid. Helpful."

She smiles, fond. Mentally she notes to warn Razel about the danger of handing Warlock researches to rogue agents, for good measure. Then again Osiris is a bit of an exception.

"He also told me you got married."

She tenses, expecting... reproach, judgment, resentment, she's not sure. The impulse is irrational – he hasn't been his teachers for an eternity – but she can't help it.

He notices it and only looks sadder when she forces herself to relax.

"I did," she says coolly. "We sent you an invite."

"I wasn't in a good place then," he tells her, almost pleading. "I'm... Sorry, Ikora."

She looks at him for a long time, wondering... Osiris has never been to admit he's wrong. So why ask forgiveness tonight? Why not years ago, when she still felt betrayed over his actions?

But for better or for worse, it is tonight. So she extends a peace offering – if not forgiveness, then something close enough. It’s not often that one hears an apology from the great Osiris, after all.

"Her name is Nasreen. She's a Guardian too – a Titan. We met in the Crucible."

They met on opposing teams, to be exact. After Osiris was banished, Ikora felt... Lost. Uncertain. With the loss of her mentor, she turned to the only other thing that truly felt familiar to her. The Crucible. Her and Nasreen had a brief but legendary rivalry, the undefeated champion against the rising star. Then Ikora left again to focus on her duties, and Nasreen...

Followed after her. Asked her out for drinks. Held on to her, first as a friend then a lover, when Ikora sorely needed an anchor. She will eternally be grateful for Nasreen’s impact on her life, and she couldn't ask for a dearer friend or a better wife.

She's so, so lucky to have her.

"She's- beautiful. The bravest and kindest person I've had the fortune to meet." She smiles, warmth pooling in her guts at the thought of her wife. She tries, maybe pointlessly, to summarize a whole person in a few words – to show Osiris what she sees in this woman. "She loves cats, keeps conspiring with Razel to make me adopt strays. She always tell me I don't eat enough, and she bakes me sweet and stashes them around my work station so I have no choice to eat them."

It seems too little. There isn’t enough time in a single night to explain the impact Nasreen had on her life. But Osiris looks at her as if he gets it.

"I'm glad you have someone like her in your life," he says. "Is she here tonight?"

"No. She's working a rescue mission in a remote part of the EDZ, couldn't make it back without putting it in jeopardy."

They've been married for long enough Ikora doesn't mind. She does wish she could share this experience with her wife. But there's always next year, and the one after that. Neither of them is going anywhere.

Osiris takes a step back. "Well, then it's my duty to entertain you in her absence."

"Your duty?"

"As- your mentor."

"You're not my mentor anymore," she reminds him, not unkindly. Neither of them can fall back on old habits, act like they’re still master and student. They're equals now, in power and position. She doesn't look up to him the way she used to and he doesn't look after her like he was supposed to.

He nods, conceding the point with a kind of sadness she’s unused to seeing in him. "True. As your friend, then." He extends a hand. Hopeful, maybe, that she sees him as a friend too. "Would you like to dance?"

She takes it. "With a friend? Always."

They move to the dance floor, slotting themselves between groups of dancers. The light is brighter away from the sides, and it reflects off the metallic details of her costume. The peacock feathers-train of her dress fans around her as he makes her spin, a graceful arc of reds and golds.

"A phoenix?" He asks, jerking his chin at her costume.

"The theme was birds of a feather. For unity."

She smoothly steps out of the way of two men passing through the crowd. She recognizes Shaxx’s shining knight armor hanging off the shoulders of a wolf-headed man, both roaring drunk. She can't help a snort of laughter as she watches them go, stumbling over each other and breaking out in fits of drunken laughter.

Osiris follows the movement easily. She's not surprised to see he can dance: he never could bear the thought of not knowing something.

"We match," he says, nodding to the feathers covering his shoulders.

"We do," she says, and is surprised to find her words weighed down by a deeper meaning than mere fashion. She compensates with a smile. "Though you could have made an effort."

He sniffs imperiously. "I had better things to do than to find a costume."

"More like you wear one everyday."

He spins them around sharply, almost making her stumble. She adjusts her stance and doesn't bother covering her chuckle. She’s right and they both know it, he’s just sensitive about his fashion choices. As he should be: they’re horrendous. She dearly hopes he’s not responsible for whatever the Followers of Osiris are wearing.

She gets three dances with him before the Vex overtakes his mind again. He draws back, somewhat reluctant, bows, and strides off without a word. There no explanation, but she didn't expect any. He would never apologize for his single-minded obsession and she has long stopped waiting for him to.

Yet, before he's swallowed by the crowd, he stops and turns to her.

"I'm happy for you, Ikora. Truly. And I'm- I'm proud of you."

He's gone before she can find summon up a reply.

She breathes out, not quite a sigh, and a weight seems to lift off her chest with it.

[Tanz mit mir]

Razel has been dancing for Traveler knows how long. It feels like hours and mere seconds all at once. The evening is a blur of colors and sounds in his mind. He aches all over, his legs from the dancing and everything else from laughing too hard.

He spins Lek around one more time as the music comes to a stop. She stops gracefully, arms extended, throwing her head back. The effect is quickly ruined as she wobbles dizzily.

They high five and she slips back into the crowd, not bothering with words when their surroundings are so noisy. She'll be back by the banquet table, he suspects. It won't be a problem to find her again once he's got tired of dancing like she did.

He has a few more songs in him, he thinks. He's ready to dance through them alone – or maybe find another single dancer to keep him company – when he catches a glimpse of a familiar Ghost in the crowd.

She disappears quickly, but he'd recognize Virgo anywhere. He makes his way to her Guardian. She's already turning to him before he reaches her, her attention caught either by the high-pitched jingling of his many bells or a warning from Virgo. Pretty sure she got into the habit of keeping tabs of his approach when he got into the habit of jumping on her back when she least expects it.

"Sable!" He calls out, waving. He closes the remaining distance at a jog and catches her in a hug. "Hi! You look stunning."

She returns the hug with a quick squeeze of her arms. "You too! I love the little bells."

He shakes his head to make them ring and giggle helplessly.

"I'm a little drunk," he says.

"I can see that."

"I tried to beat Shaxx at his... Alcohol Crucible. Drinking Royale. Whatever." He shakes his head again to get his thoughts in order. "How are you? Are you having fun?"

"Not as much as you," she says. "I just got there."

"Bet you were in your lab and forgot the time."

She rolls her eyes and punches him lightly in the arm. "It's not a bet if you already know you're winning."

"You guys keep telling me I shouldn't take losing bets!" He takes her hand between his and grin in excitement. "Wanna dance?"

The abrupt change of subject throws her off-guard. She tilts her head in confusion. He bounces on his toes, waiting. When no explanation offers itself she asks,

"Why would I want to dance?"

"Because it's fun?"

"I don't know how to dance," she says like he's a bit dense.

"Never stopped me before."

She's about to say something else – a clever comeback, he guesses – when she glances over his shoulder and her eyes widen under her mask. She freezes all over, briefly, before startling into a flurry of movements. She grabs his hand and drags him toward the dance floor, almost frantic, shoving people out of the way in her haste. She only stops when they're some way into the crowd and pins him in place with her hands on his shoulders.

"Sable?" He asks, puzzled, and reflexively rests his other hand on her waist as if they were about to waltz. Ikora tried to give him dancing lessons – some habits stuck. Not that he can waltz, per say, but he can make it look like he knows, and that's almost as good.

She shushes him. Then, realizing it is far too noisy for anyone to hear him over the music, she says, "I just saw Thyme."

They start to sway gently with the music. He nudges her back, stepping with her, and slowly they sink in a sort of slow dance where neither participant is paying any actual attention to the movements.

"Don't you wanna see her?"

She blushes. "I mean, yes, but-"

She steps on his foot and is too flustered to notice. He looks down and endeavor to not do the same. They both have that typical slender Warlock figure but he's far heavier than her – she does too much lab work to put on muscles the way he does. He doesn't think she'd like it if he stepped on her toes.

Still keeping an eye on his feet – they move out of rhythm but at a safe distance from Sable's – he says, "Don't tell me you're shy."

"I'm not used to dressing up!" She hisses, taking them in a clumsy spin. They bump into another couple. Luckily the two are too drunk to care and let themselves be pushed over. "What would I even tell her?"

"I don't know, I've never asked anyone out before."

She shakes her head. "No, no, no, it's not right. It should happen-"

That makes him smile, it's just so... Sable. "Like in the movies?"

She blushes harder but doesn't deny it.

He spins them around again, no less clumsily but with more enthusiasm. There, a few feet away, stands an exo in a beautiful red dress. He doesn't know her personally, but he's heard enough from Sable to recognize Thyme at a glance.

(The many times he stumbled on her staring dreamily toward Thyme help, too.)

He grins. "I spy, with my little eyes-" He moves his hand to her chin and turns her head the way he's looking, "The most gorgeous Titan in the room."

She makes a noise like she's choking on her spit. Somehow, her blush deepens, gaining her entire face and the tip of her ears. He snorts, trying to stifle his laughter at his expense. This time, when she stomps on his toes, he knows she meant to do it.

"Easy for you to laugh," she hisses. "You wouldn't know embarrassment if it kicked you in the face."

He spares a brief, drunken thought toward the mechanics of such an event and pulls a face at the subsequent image it inspires him.

"True," he concedes. "But I win way more bets that way."

"Good thing I don't take bets as seriously as you then."

He glances above her shoulder, toward the red Titan. She's making her way on the dance floor, not far from them.

Razel shifts on his feet and spins them in a circle. He lets go of Sable so that they're only holding hands. Her momentum forces her to take a few stumbling steps back in an effort to keep her balance.

"Have fun," he tells her, winks, and lets go entirely.

She trips and falls backward, confusion turning to panic. But instead of falling flat like she probably expected her back collides with the strong chest of a certain Titan.

Thyme closes her arms around her to keep her upright. "Are you alright?"

Sable turns Crucible red. Razel mouths 'Thank me later' at her and sinks in the surrounding crowd before she can reply with a rude gesture.

Razel moves to a side of the square to nurse his drink and his sore toes, unfortunate victims of his benevolent act on Sable's love life.

Lek dropped by to hand him a cup and immediately disappeared, distracted by a particularly fashionable woman walking by. Lek is either pestering her about her clothes or trying to get into her designer pants. He never knows, with her.

The good thing is she forgot her own drink when she ran off, which means he gets double the alcohol for none of the effort of making his way to the bar. Sweet victory. He chugs it in one go, less for the taste than to get his buzz back. Lek is more of a 'straight tequila with a hint of lime' kinda person. He likes his cocktails fruitier.

He throws the empty cup in the nearest trash can and startles when a voice says, just behind him, "Nice dunk."

By the sound of it, it belongs to an Exo. His voice is low in a way that isn't natural, the way people sound when they're playing a character. It has a nagging familiarity to it, known but hard to place.

It's the alcohol, Razel thinks, and the noise surrounding them. He has a good memory for voices usually, recognizes them better than faces.

He turns and yeah, at least he was right on that front. He's an Exo, though it's hard to tell with his head covered as it is with a hood shaped like a chicken's head. Its beak, glinting copper in the fairy lights, covers the top half of his face. Tawny feathers trail down his neck like a mane, spill over his shoulders in a cloak. Some have that same copper-shine to them as the beak, catching the lights as every movement the Exo makes.

There's nothing majestic about a chicken, but this costume sure makes a valiant effort at it.

"Nice costume!" He says in return, gesturing wildly to the kind of man-shaped pile of feathers. His drink spills over his fingers, soaking the fabric of his glove. "Ah, shit."

He takes the cup with his other hand and stares, unsure how to proceed. Then he shrugs and takes the glove off with his teeth, the wet fabric sticking slightly to his skin. He juggles his drink one more time and gets rid of the other glove for good measure.

The Exo makes a choked noise. Razel throws him a confuses glance as he stuffs the gloves in his pocket. The man waves his hand in dismissal.

"Do you-" he clears his throat, oddly flustered. A glance at the (now notably emptier) cup in Razel's hand and he seems to come to a decision, his shoulders straightening as he does. He plucks the cup from his grasp, finishes it in one go and throws it with pinpoint accuracy into the trash. Before Razel can protest, he bows and offers him his hand. When he speaks again it's with the same pretend assurance as before, low and sweet. "May I have this dance?"

A giggle escapes Razel. He pitches his voice high, as well-bred-lady-of-the-Dark-Ages as it will get. "You may," he says, putting his free hand in the Exo's.

The Exo chuckles as his fingers close gently over Razel's, cradling his hand the way a Dark Age gentleman might have. His touch is warm even through his gloves, the heat of his internal hardware seeping through the metal.

He pulls Razel forward. His hand comes to rest on his lower back to guide him through the crowded dance floor. Somehow they don't bump into anyone. To Razel it's almost second nature to follow his lead, step in his track, place his hand on his shoulder. The feathers tickle his bare skin.

"I hope you're not too attached to your toes," he says brightly. His bells jingle merrily as he dips his head forward, coming closer so as to be heard over the current song. "I'm a bad dancer."

"I'm sure you'll be fine." The electronic song fades and lets place to a slower, softer one. "Just follow my lead."

Razel glances down to their feet. Left, right, left. Back, side, together. Right, left, right. Forward, side, together. With the Exo leading it's easy to keep the rhythm.

"Don't focus on your steps too much, you'll lose the music."

He looks up again, counting in his head. One, two, three. Back, side, forward – no. He fumbles, almost tripping them up.

The Exo doesn't waver, stepping around his blunder easily. He dips his head forward, the side of his feathered hood brushing against Razel's cheek.

"It's just three steps, alright? Back, side, together. Forward, side, together. Good. Keep it up."

He counts in Razel's ear until he can find his way around the steps on his own, the Exo's fingers tapping the rhythm against the small of his back.

When Razel manages a spin without getting his steps mixed up, he presses him closer and says, proud and fond, "Attaboy."

And Razel finally manages to put a name to the voice.

In surprise he stumbles, trips them up, sends them sprawling to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs and clothing. A flailing elbow catches him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

Cayde lets out a squawk of surprise on the way down, smothered by Razel's weight dropping on top of him. He starts to say something, but it's drowned out by Razel's laugh.

"I didn't recognize you," he chokes out in between fits of giggling. "I just-"

He collapses in giggles again before he can explain how hilarious this is. Cayde looks at him for a second, puzzled. Then the situation dawns on him – the mistaken identity, the sheer... Masquerade cliché of it all. He bursts out laughing.

"I was talking right into your ear!" He says, almost laughing too hard to talk. "How did you not recognize me before? I'm hurt, really."

"You changed your voice!"

"Only in the beginning!"

Razel can't manage a shrug with his shoulders shaking with laughter. He shakes his head and pushes himself on his forearms, staring into Cayde's face. The hood is askew, the beak falling over one of his eyes. It's him alright, with the horn and the bright blue eyes and every single scuffs and scars. Razel can't believe he didn't see it sooner – even the way he walks is unique and familiar.

He brushes his thumb under Cayde's eye, to a small scuff in the paint there. A shiver goes through Cayde at the touch, when he scrapes his nail lightly against a nick in the metal. It seems to travel all the way through his cloak, the feathers shivering with him, puffing up before settling back.

"Buddy," Cayde says, "We're laying in the middle of a crowd."

Indeed they were. "Maybe we should move," he replies, distracted. There's a bit of motor oil on Cayde's cheek – he wipes it with his thumb, scratches the part that stubbornly sticks to the metal.

Cayde's hand spasms against his back.

"Alright, get up," he says, voice strained. Razel rises easily, holding out a hand to help him up. "Let's get out of here."

Razel nods, bumps his shoulder against Cayde's once they're both on their feet. The space they occupied is immediately filled with dancers and he has to hold on to Cayde's hand to avoid losing him. Cayde tugs lightly on his hand and guides him off of the dance floor only seen in glimpses of his glittering cloak through the crowd.

"Where are we going?"

Cayde points to the closest wall. "Up," he says. "C'mon. I have something to show ya."

Razel doesn't question it. He follows Cayde, climbing over a dumpster, a wall, a roof; using his Warlock power when an obstacle proves to be too high. It turns into a bit of a race, at some point, but not one he ever expects to win. His aim sucks, with a gun or with a jump, even worse when he's drunk.

He misses his last leap and hits the edge of a roof, scrambling to keep hold on it. Cayde catches him by the wrists, pulls him up before he can slip down.

And then, just like that, they're on top of the world.

[Better love]

It takes Razel a moment to notice, still unbalanced from the run, the fall, the alcohol. But when his eyes finally adjusts he gasps in wonder.

They're – high up, higher than he thought despite having climbed here. The whole City is spread up under them, a gigantic spiderweb of light like a reflection on water of the stars above.

"I know, right?" Cayde moves to stand next to him, resting his hand on Razel's shoulder. "It's not the highest spot in the City, but... Close enough."

Razel grins. He lifts a foot, feels the pull of gravity, almost pitches forward. There's a hum in his bones, the cold, empty air taking all the space in his bones. He feels light, buoyant. Altitude has that effect on him, like battle but softer, quieter.

Music drifts up from the party below, the melody clear and the lyrics lost to the wind. He turns on his toes, flirting with a fall. A step forward, another, then he's spinning, feet walking a loose circle as he goes round and round. His coat fans around him, bells jingling along with the music. He goes faster. The lights below and the stars above blur together, vertigo making his heart beat faster and faster–

He stops, abruptly, when he bumps into Cayde. Strong arms loop around him, steadying him. He's laughing, he realizes, shoulders shaking with it. He lets his head fall, resting his forehead against Cayde's. Cayde chuckles under his breath, pressing his hands against Razel's back.

The music fades away. For a moment, it's just them, laughing like idiots again.

"You really can't stay standing tonight," Cayde says.

"Easier for you to sweep me off my feet," he replies, breathless from laughter.

He lifts his hand to Cayde's face, pushes the hood back, pulls him in. Cayde goes easily.

There's a kind of deep-seated satisfaction in touching him. Fingertips lodges in the gaps of his metal plates, dry lips against his mouth in a clumsy, smiling kiss. Like the breathtaking relief of pouring cold water on a burn. The fire inside him, the restless, burning energy that drives him, dimmed to low embers. Warm and comfortable, seeping in his bones in place of the altitude high.

The arm Cayde has around his waist tightens, pulling him in until they're flush together. His other hand travels upward. He strokes his back, feather light, up his neck. He knocks Razel's hat off his head and tangles his fingers in his untied hair, tugs at it just enough to angle his face right.

It's a spark to his embers, setting him alight once more. He wants more – no, he wants everything. Every inch of Cayde against his skin, every breath lost between them.

He clings harder, dips a hand under Cayde's collar just to feel the warmth of his whirring core against his skin. He lets out a needy whine smothered by a gasp as Cayde makes up for it by kissing his jaw, his neck, pushing his coat out of the way so he can follow the line of his neck to the junction of his shoulder. He lets go, briefly, to take off his gloves. His hands don't stray from Razel's skin for long. As soon as they're bare they find their way back to him. One dives in his hair again, running through the loose strands, the other stroking the skin of his waist before dipping under his shirt. It runs over the slight jut of his hipbone, the hard plane of his stomach, his side, his ribs. Almost greedy in its climb up his body. Razel shivers, at the touch and the cold wind against his skin where his shirt rides up.

In retaliation he rips off the feathered cloak — definitely shredding the lace tying it in his hurry to get it off. It falls in a flutter like a bird taking flight. He rakes his fingers down Cayde's back, blunt nails digging into the soft leather of his armor. He didn't dress any differently under the heavy cloak. Part of Razel is glad for it. He knows how to get him out of these clothes and he's not sure he would have the patience to understand the workings of a costume right now.

He digs his fingers in the vulnerable spot to the side of Cayde's spine, where a few naked wires come close to the surface. Cayde gives a full-body shudder, chokes out a moan.

"Yours or mine?" He says, voice ragged and low.

It takes a moment for Razel to get his thoughts enough in order to process and answer the question.

"We can transmat directly to mine," he gasps out, almost feverish from Cayde's touch.

Pros of living in your ship: you never have to bother walking home.

"Yours it is."

A flick of his wrist and Cubix appears, transmats them home without a word.

Cayde's cloak and Razel's hat remain on the ground, forgotten.

#writing #LGBT Destiny Month #destiny 2 #long post #cayde-6 #ikora rey #zavala #osiris destiny #my ocs #razel #lord shaxx #lord saladin #suraya hawthorne #eva levante #i think that's everyone?

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chisie12 · 5 years

Text

Gency Week Day 4: Morning Glory/Affection

A little late for Day 4 but I do hope you enjoy!

Just some notes: Meine Maus is German for 'My mouse', a small term of endearment. Jungspunde (if you've seen it in Dance of Silver) just means 'youngster' These might also be spelled wrong. My fav German is currently asleep. So mistakes are on me.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071907/chapters/45535678

Day 4: Desire and Desiderium

The last week's event with the daffodils had been successful. The limited time food and drinks were quite a hit with the customers. Upon opening the cafe, she picked up the mail in the mailbox on the way, dropped them onto the counter and begun the early setup. She worked silently and efficiently, not a single word of complaint escaping. She was happy to be able to put her back into this, to the point she hummed a small tune. The melodious sound echoed in the empty cafe and unbeknownst to her, a shadow was watching her the whole time. But he never showed himself, at least not until a little later.

Dawn had just broken when she finished putting the chairs down and a cheerful voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Good morning, Angela!”

“A very good morning to you too, Mei,” the blonde grinned and they started cooperating on getting the cafe ready. Angela entered the kitchen, preparing the ingredients that needed to be used that day as Mei checked on the machines that they would use for the drinks.

“Last week was really fun!” Mei giggled, bending over the counter on the tip of her toes. With a flick of her finger, the switch to the coffee machine was turned on. “We should hold another event like that again!”

“I agree!” Angela’s laughter drifted out from the open kitchen door.

“Have you seen the posts online?”

“No?”

That’s when Angela suddenly found herself — after finding her phone and opening the social media applications — grinning at the comments she read online.

“Homemade Swiss chocolates. Definitely not for children unless you want to put them to sleep!” A user posted a picture of chocolate drops finely presented on a porcelain plate. Each chocolate was different, some were spherical, some dome-shaped and white one was heart-shaped. By its side, fresh, cut strawberries decorated them, a chocolate drizzle lightly covering the juicy redness.

A commenter responded below the picture: “Oh my God. Did she draw the angel around the chocolates?”

Because right on the other side of the fruits, an angel in dark chocolate was drawn embracing the alcoholic sweetness.

“Yes, she did!”

Users, especially young teenagers, who found out of the event the week after were feeling utter regret. How did they not find out about this café sooner? And those flowers around the cafe! Warm lighting! Perfect Instantgram photos!

Pride swelled up within the blonde café owner. Her hard work had paid off! Those angels were not easy to draw, especially when 60% of her customers requested it and only she knew how. She scrolled down further on the social media results of the café’s social media tag, upon which she spotted the handiwork of Mei herself.

“Mei! Come look at this!” She yelled out to Mei who was busy concocting another iced drink in the kitchen. The Chinese girl popped her head out as Angela brought the phone over to her.

“Oh, I haven’t seen this!” Mei exclaimed and she read out loud, "Mei's ice cream rolls! Made on the spot! Do you feel your mouth watering now?”

In the picture was the image of cookies and cream ice cream rolls placed in a glass sundae cup held up by beautifully manicured nails, with similar flavoured Pocky sticks further adorning the creamy sweetness.

"You were at Mercy's Apothecary?! Why didn't you bring me!” A user commented with a series of angry emojis.

The two of them giggled at some comments that followed after, feeling immensely proud after such a hectic week. They took a quick breather, simply reading post after post, comment after comment, until one caught their eyes.

“I heard that their menu was designed a little after some of the fallen Overwatch team members. Do you think that’s true?"

“I remember the names Hellfire Shots and Sleep Special in the night drinks menu. Are they some?”

“Their Rum Punch was named ‘It’s High Noon’, I believe.”

“I ate some sandwiches named Grillmaster 77. And I think the Lemon Syrup Tea was called Mountain D.Va? Isn’t D.Va the Korean eSports celebrity who was in the army before joining Overwatch?”

"Do you think she was part of them?”

"She does look a lot like the blonde doctor that used to be on the field!"

Angela’s face contorted into confusion. What were the users saying? She had come up with those names on the fly. Overwatch? She didn’t know anyone from that organisation. The closest person she knew to an agent was Jack, and Genji (Jesse and Lena too), but even he wasn’t from Overwatch. At least, she didn't think so. And she definitely wasn't.

“Angela?”

The blonde woman shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. They’re just speculations. I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Mei looked on worriedly. “Al…right. If you say so.” She turned back into the kitchen, but not without taking a second glance back. Angela’s eyebrows were furrowed into a deep confusion, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. Her fingers clenched at the phone before she clicked it off.

Speculations? They're not speculations at all.

‘Why would Angela be confused? What was wrong with their comments?’ Mei sighed inwardly before grabbing the drink she just made and coming back out.

“Here.”

Angela looked up from her thoughts. “Thank you,” she said upon receiving the iced tea.

Mei took the other seat beside Angela behind the counter.

Angela then picked up the letters and looked through them. “There’s one addressed to you.”

“That’s weird? I didn’t set the cafe’s address for anything.” Mei took the letter with a frown as she sipped on her green tea frappuccino. She flipped the letter over. "There's no sender either."

Angela hummed as she opened each letter, the majority being bills that she had to pay. At one letter however, was an enveloped exactly identical to Mei's, down to the font used on the front. Mei originally brushed the letter away, her attention directed more at her phone, but when Angela looked over to compare their envelopes, even she couldn't help but be curious. Tacitly, they simultaneously tore their respective envelope open and picked out the paper folded within.

"Dear Angela, I am pleased to invite you and your Overwatch teammates to attend a specially organised masquerade dinner celebrating your good deeds. The event will take place on the 13th next Friday at Lumiere Hotel. We will also be graced with the appearance of a special guest joining us that evening," Angela muttered under her breath. Below the body were details of the event printed in elegant cursive text.

Feeling a presence peer at her letter, Angela looked up with a quirked eyebrow at Mei. "Oh, it is the same too!"

Huh? Same too? What did she mean by 'too'?

Seeing the inquisitive, baffled expression on Angela's face, Mei was beginning to be convinced that something was wrong with Angela, otherwise why else would she be rough with Genji?; wouldn't react upon seeing Junkrat or Roadhog except for confused silence; upon treating her like merely a colleague when they've shared late nights discussing the effects of climate and weather in relation to cybernetics; upon receiving the overly friendly smile you receive when you weren't good friends yet.

But they were. And have been for years — ever since she joined Overwatch after being thawed out.

"I received the same invitation," Mei waved her letter.

"Overwatch?" Angela tested the words on her tongue, so foreign yet why did it feel so familiar at the same time. She'd felt it before, just only a little over four months ago, when she saw his face wrapped around that scarf, the faint scars carved into his skin. It was… just like the time she did with Genji. Her face furrowed into confusion. Wait, if Mei received one too then wasn't she from Overwatch too?

"Yeah, Overwatch," Mei parroted without missing a beat before Angela could question. She contemplated whether to continue or not, to inform Angela that they've gone out into the field together way back when Overwatch still stood tall and proud, but something tugged at her not to say and to not intrude into the matters of others, yet… "Angela, were —"

"G'day, snowflake!" Junkrat slammed the cafe doors open. The maniacal grin dancing on his lips stretched wider when his eyes found their target sitting together with Angela. "How ya doin'!" He bounded over to the women as Roadhog lowered his head to enter the just-tad-too-short doors.

Mei waved Angela to remain sitting while she stood up to attend to their new regular customers. "Good morning, Jamie. What's your order today?"

Junkrat chuckled under his breath and, for the first time Mei saw him, he straightened his spine and leaned back. His hips were pushed forward, thumbs hooked in his pockets and she found herself flicking her gaze onto his remaining fingers. "You."

"Alright! I'll get that — wait, what?" She had subconsciously jabbered on in routine when his order finally clicked in her mind. "M-Me?"

"Yes, 'flake. You." The slightly crazed man grinned while he watched her reaction, having caught her gaze. "What say you? You, me, on a date?"

Was it just her or was the cafe heating up? Junkrat watched, satisfied at the deep flush her fair cheeks were sporting. Her pink lips parted, only to have her teeth nibble at her bottom lip. The seconds felt like minutes and everything slowed down in that very moment; Angela watched with curiosity deeming proud for a feline, Junkrat puffing out his chest with the pride of a lion, and Mei, poor flabbergasted, confused Mei, simply pinched and played with her fingers. Was he playing a joke on her? If he was, it was such a sick joke! But as she lifted her eyes to glance at him, the shred of sincerity shining in his eyes caused her to flinch. Was it real? It really seemed so real. Should she accept?

‘I mean like, it wouldn’t hurt to right? Maybe? Argh! I don’t know!’ Mei felt as though animated tears streaming down her distraught face as she wished she was holed up in a corner to her thoughts.

This was just too sudden! This wasn’t the Jamie — Junkrat — that she knew! Where did that crazy, maniacal laughing, bubble tea loving pyromaniac go! She’d rather face his usual babble of explosions and threats of blowing this building, that building, or even the park if he could just because some dog peed on his leg (and no, clearly not on the fleshy leg).

As the time ticked by, Junkrat’s confident smile twitched at the corner. It shouldn’t be taking that long to decide would it? Or did she not find him attractive enough? That what? She preferred those stick thing, unreliable Asian men better (with of course, excluding that cyborg ninja Genji and archer Hanzo. Those two could give me one hell of a run if they tried, he scoffed)?

“Uh…”

His ears perked up at the soft voice, just like the little tweet of a nightingale and his eyes sparkled with anticipation. Really, just what could go wrong, right?

Everything, of course.

The door, for the second time that day, opened with the lightest of push, but it was that small creak that sounded especially deafening in the tense silence. In stepped a tall, muscular blond man whose blue eyes first beamed at spotting Angela behind the counter, before falling onto a nervous Mei and a threatening Junkrat.

“You — What are you doing to Mei?” Jack stepped towards Junkrat with a level glare. “You wouldn’t happen to be threatening a waitress, would you?”

“Fuck off, cunt. I was just asking her a question!” Junkrat returned the glare with one of his own. “Fucking ruined the moment!”

Jack ignored his cussing, turning to Mei instead. Gesturing at the angry pyromaniac with a flick of his chin, he asked, “Is that true?”

“U-Uh, yeah. He was,” Mei heaved a mental sigh of relief at seeing a familiar face walk through the door. Oh gosh, she couldn’t even begin imagining what she’d do if unacquainted customers came by!

Jack was about to continue questioning her when a gentle voice cut him off. “It’s alright, Jack. He really wasn’t threatening her.”

At Angela’s reassurance did the agent relax his guard and walk up to the second cashier, to which she stood up to man. He observed her grinning countenance, scanning for any abnormalities, but he found none. ‘So, the letter hasn’t arrived?’ His mind floated towards the ninja that appeared moments before he entered, frowning at the memory. 'Did she see him too?'

Angela paid no heed to his stare and continued gracing him with her smile. “Good morning. You’re not normally in this early, or this often.”

Concluding that it really hasn’t arrived and haven't seen the cyborg ninja, he returned her grin and shook his head. “I just miss you that’s all. I was wondering if you’re free later today after work as I got a day off.”

“Sure, I don’t have anything planned. What did you want to do?” she responded almost immediately.

“Just perhaps a walk in the park? Thought we could both do with a nice change in pace,” he suggested.

“Sounds good to me.”

Junkrat seethed at the side, scowling darkly at the scene and faced Mei again. She half feared that he was going to ask her out again and forced herself to keep smiling. If he asked, she’d reply! If not, then… well. She wasn’t sure?

“Just give me the breakfast set. Roadie will have the same but with more sausages.” Instead, he grumbled under his breath while glaring at the till.

Somehow, just somehow, Mei was disappointed. Was she only worth that much to him? Was it really a joke after all? She carefully took his payment and gave him his order number before quickly entering the kitchen to prepare the meal. Simple dishes like this, she could do, but anything that required more skills, they were normally sent to the kitchen staff on hand or Angela to complete. However just for this meal, just this one, even if she’d deny it in front of others, she wanted to at least make that crazy man his breakfast. Juicy, ripened tomatoes were sliced in half before being lightly seasoned with salt and pepper with a drizzle of olive oil before being baked in the oven. On the frying pan was a couple of thick striped bacon and sausages sizzling away that she flipped over before checking on the simmering pot of water. With a dash of vinegar, she then stirred to create a whirlpool before carefully cracking a fresh large egg into it. She watched in anticipation as the egg whites swirled and danced around the yolk, like a butterfly’s wings cocooning itself.

It didn’t take long to finish the meal. The tomatoes came out first and then poached eggs, and she neatly plated them on a warm porcelain plate. A garden salad was placed on the side with a lemon balsamic tang before the bacon and sausages was put on. She repeated the same on another plate but with added sausages. Once content with everything, she brought out the plates, one in each hand and sauntered towards the table. This time, confidence was oozing out of her every pore and it showed, as Junkrat’s attention was suddenly shifted towards her as he caught her from the corner of his eye. His eyes were locked onto the delicious upward tug of her lips before blinking at the glint in her eyes so bright behind the glasses. He visibly gulped the lump in his throat when he watched her curves dance towards him with mouth-watering meals in her possession.

“Here you go. A breakfast special made especially for you.” The plates lightly thudded on the wooden table and Junkrat was stunned at the smile that she gave him.

He gulped again, somehow noticing that the distance between them was rather short. He could feel the heat that radiated off her body and even when she pulled her hands back to her side, they were made deliberately slow and elegant as she turned to fully face him. “So,” she whispered breathily. Goosebumps tickled his skin when her cold fingertips graced his warm ones gripping the armrest. “Is the date still on?”

“W-Wha?” Incoherent words tumbled off his tongue. What was his Snowflake saying?

Mei grinned cheekily at his response and the confidence building within allowed her to lean forward just by a few inches, enough so that the words rolling off her lips would tickle his ear. “The date. The date you wanted to take me on. When will you take me out?”

The warm breath, so unlike her cold fingertips, caressed his ear and he shivered at the intensity of it all. The words repeated in his mind over and over again, before his mind finally processed it and he felt his lips tug at the corner. His shock vanished like a drop of water in the desert and he returned her gesture, sheer satisfaction blooming at the pinkness that slowly crept upon her cheeks. Leaning on his arm, he closed into her face, the smug smirk playing off his lips. “Oh, babe. We can have a date tonight if you want. Or even right here, right now.” Then, with his free hand, Junkrat lightly traced his thumb over her parted lips with a quick, fluid motion. “Of course, if you rather not, my flames are hot as fuck like the Australian sun and it’ll definitely keep you warm at night.

It was like the kettle going off when the last of his breathy words kissed her lips. Mei’s face flushed entirely red where it rivalled the juiciest ripened red apples, feeling extremely hot to the point she believed steam was about to rise. Just what, why, how, what?

With his smirk widening, Junkrat leaned back and winked. “I’ll see you tonight then, Snowflake.”

With a blink of her eyes, Mei managed to compose herself before smiling sweetly at him. “Okay!”

When Mei walked away, cheeks still a little red and a little flustered, but her steps had a bounce to them. Angela grinned upon seeing that and couldn’t help her eyes wandering over to Jack who was seated by the window, eating his sandwich and reading the news. She too, was pretty eager for tonight.

“Oh, good morning Ana!” Mei chirped when an elderly lady appeared by the door. Her skin was tanned and white hair braided neatly, but unlike normal women, one of her eyes were hidden behind an eyepatch.

“Good morning. I brought the new batch of flowers for this week,” Ana smiled as she held up the pots of morning glory. The royal purples were a beautiful contrast from their dark leaves and a fresh scent immediately wafted around the cafe. “I have the rest in my car.”

Angela beamed at the morning glory. They were absolutely beautiful! And they seemed to have just bloomed as well. Gratefully taking the heavy pot from Ana’s hands, she proceeded to set it down near the door, close enough to be by the entrance but not enough to get destroyed when the door opened (courtesy of a particular fellow).

While Ana turned around to get the other pots, a burly man standing at easily over 2 metres was blocking the doorway. In his thick arms were two large pots of morning glory, the trellises covered with buds in full bloom. “Ana, Meine Maus. You left your car door open.”

Ana grinned lopsidedly at the man. Steps filled with elegance and a deathly vibe, she walked up towards the man and lifted her hand to gently caress his cheek on her tiptoes. The short hairs of his beard tickled her calloused palm. “Why wouldn’t I, my love? I could easily spot you from a mile away.”

Reinhardt, the big old burly man chuckled lovingly at the smaller woman before him. Her head was lowered as she lifted her one eye to blink innocently up at him. “And besides, you wouldn’t let anyone steal a defenceless old woman’s car, would you?”

Her whisper was only audible for him to hear and he couldn’t help guffawing at the bashful, defenceless look she was putting on. Her? Defenceless? Hah! She could easily send someone to meet their father in Heaven if she wanted to!

“And besides, who would steal the car when someone like you was already stealing flower pots out of it?”

His laughter bellowed louder in the cafe. Nimbly, he pecked her on the forehead, the adoration so clear in his gaze. “Oh, Meine Maus. I’m just helping you carry these heavy things.” He knew full well that she could easily handle these pots herself too with all the years having been in the field with her sniper rifle, and gods, that gun was not light to begin with. “I even finished training the Jungspunde as fast as I could, just so I could see you.”

Ana smiled and stepped aside to allow Reinhardt entry, mouthing him a silent ‘thank you’ before turning to Angela. “Tell him where you’d like them.”

She warmed at the scene before her, feeling rather wistful from it all. When would she be able to experience something like that? A simple, comfortable relationship with nothing else that was more important. A sigh slipped from her lips before she stepped forward to instruct Reinhardt on the positioning of the plants. A few customers arrived when the cafe was being transformed into a mini garden once more whom Mei attended to as Angela handled the decorations. It was bittersweet, watching the old couple. Sweet, simple ministrations of small pecks, rubbing of her cheek on his bicep, and unburdened laughter that was so addictive that the others couldn’t help but join in too.

“Thank you.”

Ana and Reinhardt looked up from their seats to smile at Angela who brought a plate of food and a tray of refreshments. Setting the sandwiches down with the drinks, she thanked the couple once more.

“It’s our pleasure, Angie. You’re doing really well with the cafe.” Ana commented, her words tinged with pride.

“It’s a team effort,” Angela responded bashfully. And that was true. Without Jack’s assistance in forming the cafe, she would have then never built the cafe up to the standard that she wanted; He was the one who found Ana the florist, and not long after she posted job positions, Mei came (with a few other staff of course, but the Chinese woman was the most memorable one out of the lot) with her refreshing iced drinks. When she faced the couple again, there was something that nagged at her mind, itching at her to ask: “How do you make it work?” She knew Reinhardt was somewhere in the military; the guy had to be with that kind of body!

“You mean relationships?” Ana asked back and she nodded. When the old woman turned to look at Reinhardt, she caught his silent, endearing gaze as he nibbled on his sandwich and her lungs burst out into giggles. “They’re work, Angie. Definitely not 50/50. Some days when I get up, I feel like only giving 10% of my effort and my love here will have to step up to give 90% that day.”

“But there’s 100% love,” Reinhardt finished for her as he handed her the cup to drink. “It’s really hard to put it into words because it can’t really be measured. Sometimes you just gotta feel for it.”

“But how would you know who?”

“Someone who feels like home,” Ana grinned, taking Reinhardt’s hand into hers. “It’s not about the excitement or the things you share in common. Sometimes, it’s really just someone that makes you feel comfortable, someone that you can go home to and relax without a worry.”

“Without a worry, huh…”

“How come, Angie? Is there someone on your mind?” Ana questioned, leaning back as she daintily picked up her cup and sipped her tea. She truly did wonder, just who might have Angela ended up with? She watched the pondering woman closely, feeling slightly odd at the sight. The blonde cafe owner before her was nothing like the doctor she knew back in Overwatch, like something… had changed. It wasn’t such a major, drastic change no. Just something subtle, something you wouldn’t have been able to grasp if you weren’t attentive enough.

Angela hummed as she hugged the tray closer to her chest. At first, her eyes darted towards Jack, her questioning gaze staring at his back. Would he be the one? Sure, they’ve shared laughter and smiles before, but that’s all there was. It was like there was never a rainy day between them and honestly, that was nice. She felt happy with him and rather free, yet simultaneously, there were times where she had to constantly put that smile on — even if she didn’t want to. Putting away her fatigue, her stress for the day, just so she could smile for him… was that really what she wanted? Yes, she was smiling. Yes, they laughed together. And he'd helped her with a new beginning. But it was just so tiring…

Ana caught onto the direction of her gaze, and so did Reinhardt. They both shared a glance, untold conversations silently weaving through the air.

"I haven't seen Genji in awhile. How is he doing?"

Angela was snapped out of her reverie at the man's question. Genji… huh. "I haven't seen him in awhile. I guess he must be busy."

Reinhardt let out a sound of acknowledgment. "I suppose he is. But shouldn't you check up on him? To make sure he's working fine?"

She was startled. "Huh? What do you mean?"

This time it was Reinhardt who was surprised. "Am I wrong? Don't you regularly perform checks on him? To make sure the cybernetic parts of his body are operating at optimum levels, or something?" He paused, holding her gaze with his quirked eyebrow. "Am… I not right? These things are just too confusing!"

"I - I…"

At a loss for words, the cafe owner flinched back a small step. Everything in her was a mess lately. She hadn't believed Genji the first time he told her she was a doctor, that she was in Overwatch, but then the letter came. Inviting her. And then, now this.

Was this why they all gave her weird expressions when they first met? When Mei came for an interview and she appeared all cheerful, only to be shocked and confused, before the same smile was brought back, although albeit forced. Angela honestly always thought that the icy woman was just someone who wore her heart on her sleeve while still being capable of maintaining a professional attitude; the ability to create the iced drinks were just icing on the cake. And when Angela first met Ana, the older woman had instantly treated her with warmth, giving off the vibe of a loving grandmother who desperately wanted to give hugs and cookies. Yet, when Angela kept that professional distance and introduced herself, Ana, similarly like Mei, had given her an expression full of confusion.

As though they were supposed to adjust be acquainted.

But she… couldn't remember.

Remember.

It's always her memory. Something was definitely missing. Something related to Overwatch. Something she should have known but couldn't. Something… argh! What was it? If only she could —

The door to the cafe opened and the first wave of breakfast customers came rushing in to get their daily coffee and food. Dropping the topic right there, Angela quickly returned to her position with an apology and helped Mei attend to the customers.

"Something's not right… with Angie."

"I agree, Meine Maus. It's like she can't remember us."

"But it's only been a little under five years since the disbandment of Overwatch."

The couple had only gotten in touch with Angela from time to time before she opened the cafe. That was simply life. You'd get busy and things start to pile up. You'd focus on one task before moving onto the next, or even, you'd just sit and laze there, waiting for the time to pass for the exact reason that things were starting to pile up, like pile up.

"I don't know, my love. It's not as simple as that…" And pursed her lips while her motherly sixth sense was tingling. Something. Was terribly wrong.

Angela busied herself with the customers, plastering on the usual smile as the wave kept coming for breakfast or early lunches. She'd pass Jack occasionally with a plate of food or with a tray of drinks, and though she wished she could forget about what the old couple has mentioned, her mind constantly strayed away. Would he be the one? Was he the one I feel like home? She glanced at Jack as she walked towards the table behind him before quickly lowering her lashes. The image of his smiling side profile flitted into her mind, chin in palm and a warm mug in the other. He watched the people by the sidewalk pass by the cafe while the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. A lovely day indeed.

After serving the drinks, she too, looked out the window. 'It's been sunny for awhile,' she noted mentally. 'I wonder when will it rain?'

Her footsteps immediately paused and her nose wrinkled.

If every day was a sunny day, who would not wish for rain?

His words, crisp and clear, rang in her mind. It was already muddled with thoughts, a total mess of a mindscape like messy clothes strewn carelessly around the room, but his words remained bolded and strong. Her lips subconsciously twitched upward.

True. We all need a rainy day once in awhile.

And when the day had come and gone, the sun finishing its cycle to allow space the moon to bask in its glory, Angela stood outside her cafe with her face towards the fiery sky. Hues of orange and yellow painted the clouds a passionate colour, with a visible of violet and pink. She released a deep sigh, letting it all out and the gentle breeze blew, caressing her cheek and danced with her hair. It's been 17 weeks since she opened the cafe, 17 weeks since her new beginning, and two weeks since she saw him. Was he doing well? Was he eating well? Did those scars hurt?

"Have fun!" Mei called out from inside the cafe. Junkrat was waiting on her inside, fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest as he balanced the car on its two back legs.

"Thanks for closing up!" Angela smiled. There was still 30 minutes to closing, but Mei had offered to close up, giving the owner the short break from the Monday Mayhem. They hadn't expected it to be so busy, but after the first wave came, they never stopped.

Jack waved bye to Mei after a warning glance at Junkrat to come stand beside Angela. "You cold?" He asked when he saw her crossed arms.

Smiling sweetly, she shook her head. "Not really. I'm fine."

Although he acknowledged her words, he still removed his coat and gingerly wrapped it around her shoulders. An indescribable feeling washed over her, the emotions bubbling up to her throat. He was sweet, such a gentleman, and he was strong and loyal. But why did she feel like there was something that she could never cross? Something held her back, an invisible threshold her heart refused to jump across.

"Come, let's go to the park nearby."

However, just as he uttered those words, the darkening sky lost its passionate hue as dark clouds immediately converged above the city. Lightning flashed before their eyes as the winds picked up speed, with barely three seconds later as the thunder clapped, the sound rumbling and shocking her nerves.

Instantly, like a tear in the sky, it started pouring. Angela stood beneath the eaves of her cafe, watching the grey faded curtain of the rain fall before her. The chill pervaded her senses, yet the feeling was refreshing, a nice calm in the chaos of her heart.

"Shit. I'll go borrow an umbrella." Jack turned back into the cafe.

Angela hummed nonchalantly, her attention still on the pitter-pattering of rain. Her fingers, still on her cross arms, twitched, as though something was missing — something that had normally done before. A sad smile flitted onto her lips the more she thought about it. The empty slate of memories that she had of year before her awakening in the hospital, that wide gap, was beginning to get on her nerves. The doctors said that with time, her memories should resurface. Nothing was wrong with her that was extremely detrimental, everything was functioning alright. At least, that's what the doctors said.

Were they right?

She began to seethe at the doubt that arose. What was the truth? What was the lie?

"Ahh, there aren't any umbrellas in the cafe," Jack groaned as he returned to her side. "Why isn't there one? Sigh… what would you like to do?" He felt dejected at the weather, inwardly cursing the bad timing to have it rain. After so long of finally getting a day off just to spend it with her, it rained. It. Just. Had. To. Rain. Fuck.

Angela didn't even spare him a glance, too lost in her thoughts when she suddenly cried out in pain at the sharp stab to her brain. It pulsed and burned, like a knife was carving in her skull. A faint, blurry memory was resurfacing, the scene dark, but she felt a sense of comfort. A phantom warmth crept on her cheek, like a gentle caress of the wind, but the calloused touch brought shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes and relished in the memory, as blurry as it may be.

Murmured whispers began to echo.

“Oh, it’s raining.”

“Mmm, it would seem like it is.”

“If I recall, it was raining when I found you too.”

“Yeah, it was raining just like this at that time.”

“I’m glad that I did though.”

“Huh?”

“It allowed me to meet you.”

The close intimacy of those words brought upon a wave of desire and anguish in her heart. The man’s voice was familiar, too familiar in fact and the same instinctual feeling she felt weeks ago — buried long ago — resurfaced.

She tried to calm her breathing, the pain now throbbing a dull ache. By her side, Jack was worried and anxious, but his words fell on deaf ears. She couldn’t hear a word he uttered, nor could she hear Mei’s.

“Then I propose we have a date in the rain.”

“In the rain? Then I’ll just have to bring an umbrella.” The her in the memories giggled, giggled, at the prospect of walking in the rain.

There came the phantom caress once again, causing her heart to burn with renewed fervor.

“Two lovers in the rain have no need for an umbrella.”

His name, barely audible in the rain, was murmured under her breath, a soft kiss of desiderium that warmed and at the same time, anguished her within.

The large hands that held onto her arm and patted her back brought her out of her senses, and cruelly back to reality. She snapped her head towards a worried Jack and she stared into his eyes so blue that mirrored her countenance. Did he know?

'Did Jack know anything of me in Overwatch?' She thought. 'If he did, why wouldn't he tell me?'

An uneasy feeling rose up his throat at the blank, level stare that she gave him. Did she recover her memories?

The doctors said that with time, her memories should resurface, but it was Jack that told her, "It's alright if you don't remember. Each day is a new beginning."

What were his intentions then? She believed him like a baby depended on its mother when it first opened its eyes. He was there by her bed when she woke up, there when she felt lost at everything, there when every new thing popped up. But now —

Just how much shit could she have avoided if she knew his intentions from the start?

"Angie…?" He tested the waters warily, a sense of danger sparking off in his mind. An angry woman was after all, more dangerous than any sniper bullet.

The unreadable expression on her beautiful countenance disappeared with the blink of an eye as the same smile he was used to appeared. "Oh, I'm sorry. I blanked out."

He heaved a mental sigh of relief. Outwardly, he returned her smile. "You were in pain just now. Did your head hurt?"

"Yeah, but it's fine now."

And now, for the actual worry. "Did you recover your memories?"

Angela closed her eyes as she shook her head, using that moment of darkness to hide the sharp glint in her gaze. Memories? Yeah, she recovered just the slightest bit of them, but it doesn't look like he wanted her to. However, she easily lied through her smile, "No. I didn't. I think I'm just cold. I want to go home. Sorry about this."

Jack patted her head and she forcefully repressed the urge to flinch. "You don't have to apologise." I do. "I'll send you home."

She wanted to refuse him, to go alone and sit with her thoughts, but seeing the eagerness in his eyes made it sizzle away. "Sure."

And as they ran across the streets, jacket or hands covering their heads, a lone shadow appeared by the cafe door. In his hand was a brown paper bag. For the first time in two weeks, he wasn't in his cyborg suit. He didn't shiver at the cold, feeling a hollow space in his heart. For two weeks, he held back in seeing her. For two weeks, he worked hard to finish the thing in the bag. For two weeks… he tried to swim against the raging waves of his mind, that she didn't intentionally forget who he was, that she didn't intend to leave him, to hurt him like this.

Yet, when I tumbled and turned in my thoughts, I always came to the same conclusion: It's sad when the person that gave me the best memories, becomes a memory.

"Genji! You're here." Mei greeted me despite Junkrat's scowls and grumbles. "Do you want something to drink?"

I shook my head, looking around the cafe for any signs of Angela. Water dripped from my hair, wet clothes clinging to my body and the scent of morning glory entered my senses. Affection, I vaguely remembered its meaning. Mei caught onto my gaze and asked, "Are you looking for Angela? She just left with Jack before you arrived."

I gave her a bitter smile. Jack. Jack Morrison again. He stopped me from entering this morning when I gathered enough courage to see her as the cafe opened, and when I heard his words, I swallowed the acid in my throat and resolutely walked away. The dragon in my blood stirred, the unaccepting fury bubbling.

"What are you doing here, Genji?"

"Commander," I had curtly replied with the same brown bag in hand. Tugging my scarf higher, I continued. "I'm here to see Angela."

Jack shook his head, arms crossed on his chest as he leaned his weight on a foot. "You're just going to hurt her when she sees you."

"Why?" I narrowed my eyes, the dark irises flashing a dangerous red and Jack tensed his muscles in retaliation.

Instead of replying, Jack shook his head and shifted the topic. "You know. It was amazing how you two have been friends for so long. She talked about you all the time."

My ears perked up. "She did?"

"Yeah, I have to say, I have no idea how you didn't fall in love with her yet." My heart ached at the bitter memory of months ago. "Lucky for me though."

And I swore, I was about to pummel him for the smug grin he graced me with. Had he thought I hadn't felt that? That they were together? That I had missed out on my only chance just because of a damn mission?

"Did you have to fucking tell me that?" I growled at him. "Then go, go to her."

And I had then turned around, my back to the cafe, to her, and walked away, and it was with that, that I missed Jack's agonised expression, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

"I wish I could. She hasn't even agreed to date me."

Turning my attention back to Mei, I ignored Junkrat by the side and handed her the bag. "Could I leave this bag here with you?"

"What's in it?"

My face twitched into a smile. "Nothing much."

Mei narrowed her eyes in jest. "Really? It's not something I need to be afraid of, right?"

I shook my head but Junkrat had been faster, grabbing the paper bag from my grip before she could lay a finger on it. "No! If it's fucking dangerous, cunt. You're not leaving it here with her."

I rolled my eyes at the pyromaniac. "It's a lot less dangerous than you."

"Damn right it should be!" He proudly exclaimed.

Mei laughed at his antics, taking the bag away from him. "I'll keep this safe. How have you been?"

I could sense the hidden worry in her tone and I chuckled sadly. "As good as I can be. Jesse and Lena are helping me through this ordeal."

Mei hummed in agreement. "That's good. Angela is a little different though."

I scoffed lightly. "Of course. She's lost her memories. Doesn't remember a single thing."

Mei gasped. "Seriously? Aiya, no wonder she found it weird when she got the letter. Did you get it too?"

I raised an eyebrow. "That dinner invitation?" At her nod, I replied, "Yeah. I did."

"Hey, hey. What letter! Why am I not invited to something Snowflake is invited to?" Junkrat grumbled with a scowl.

Mei rolled her eyes. "Cause you're not part of Overwatch."

Junkrat narrowed his eyes at her. "You aren't anymore too!"

I turned my head away from their public display of affection and bid them farewell. Stepping outside the cafe, I watched the heavy rain fall from the clouds. It was raining just like that night many years ago, and just like that one memory I've shared with her.

If I could, I'd take her out on a date on the rain. Her hand in mine as we walk amidst the rainy curtains. Grace her with a rose and surprise her with a box of Swiss chocolates. She'd hum a tune, that's for sure, and we'd dance to it. Freely, like birds uncaged. Not a care in the world as it's just us. Just us two, living in the rain.

Closing my eyes, I allowed the rain to fall on my face in the night. No, no tears in the rain. A cleansing of my broken heart. To allow the pain to slowly wash away with the rain, leaving me nothing but an empty hollowness in my chest. It hurt. Hurt too much.

Yet, I also knew, knew that the pain will never really go away. No one would really ever forget the pain of losing someone once loved. I'd pretend to move on and act like it didn't happen before everyone else, just because it's what to be expected.

Rubbing at my cheeks, I gulped the heavy lump lodged in my throat and fought the burning sensations in my eyes.

'If I did anything right in my life, it was when I gave my heart to you.'

#gencyweek #gency week #gw5 day 4 #gency fic #gency au #hurt #some fluff #confident Mei best Mei

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shauds-archived · 5 years

Text

This was supposed to be for the Dismissed prompt, but it really didn't fit, so I'll come up with something else for that.

Follows "Do Not Engage"

***

Eddie's mad he was never told about Jason's resurrection, Jason's surprised Eddie wanted to be told and Steph's very confused about which of the two she came to protect.

***

"A couple of years Jason!?" Eddie was yelling his hands wrapped around the throat of someone who was supposed to be dead. who he'd thought for years was dead, more to hold him in place make sure that he as there and not about to slip into the night and vanish forever. "You couldn't take a minute to call or send a damn postcard! My number was listed a couple years ago!"

Eddie didn't get a reply, he got a sharp pain in his neck and his hands loosening without his consent. "Come on, lets not make the scary murder hobo mad." Spoiler, she'd followed after him and was now grunting as she dragged him away from Jason.

Eddie didn't care about making Jason mad, Eddie was mad, he was madder than he'd been since he'd confronted Dan about Marla, and Jason, - too big, and looking just different enough that if Eddie had passed him on the street he would have chalked the resemblance up to coincidence - Jason didn't get to look up at him like he had no idea what was going on. Before Eddie could think enough about it, before Spoiler had dragged him out of range, he struck out with his fist and got Jason sprawled on the oily Gotham street.

"What did I just say?!" She shoved Eddie a couple more feet away.

"I don't care." Eddie said there was blood, close to boiling on his hand and falling from Jason's nose that didn't look quite right in the few seconds before Jason's hands went to cover it. 'There,' Eddie thought, 'Now he can be mad.'

"You got your shot in, can we go now?" Spoiler said, trying to tug Eddie away.

It took a couple of seconds before Jason did anything but look at Eddie with squinted, still disbelieving eyes. "Eddie?" He asked, his broken nose making him sound a little like he had a cold.

Eddie felt a little bad when he pulled his arm away from her and marched back to Jason instead. "No, it's Red Evil Santa!" He spat back, he had no intention of running, of letting himself be dismissed again like he had years ago when he'd first found out why he wasn't getting letters anymore. He didn't even care if Jason took out one of those guns he had strapped around his thighs and threatened to shoot him like Spoiler had said he would.

Jason gripped his nose and twisted it into something more like it's original position as he stood. Spoiler put herself between him and Eddie again, looking between them like she wasn't sure which of them she was going have to hold back this time. "The hell are you doing here?

"Kicking your ass for letting me think you were back!" Eddie's hands ached from being balled up too tightly at his sides as he spoke. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to find out you were gone, and then, then I wrote so many letters and I tried to call so many times, but nobody would tell me what happened to you, they wouldn't even talk to me, they just... dismissed me, like, I didn't deserve to know." He felt his eyes growing hot, well hotter, he quickly brushed his arm over them, he didn't need his tears glowing in this darkness. "Like I didn't spend every Sunday for six months waiting in front of the mailbox, like I didn't read every letter I had a thousand times when I found out I wasn't getting another one, because I missed you, and you were friend!" He tried to move closer to Jason, to do what, he wasn't sure, but Spoiler had her hand against his chest, pushing him back again. "I thought you were my friend." He couldn't get his voice to get over a whisper when he spoke over her shoulder. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"No," Jason averted his eyes, not even a beat of hesitation between his reply and Eddie's question.

"Damn, you really are a bastard." Spoiler spat when Eddie couldn't find his words. "You coulda just shot at us instead and you'da been less of a dick for it."

"I don't have any reason to shoot you right now." Jason shrugged, stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Sorry. Was that all?" He still wasn't looking at them, but at the bright splash of orange paint on the wall, there wasn't anything interesting about it,not interesting enough to take his attention off of someone who'd just attacked him.

"Why?" Eddie asked. "If I don't get to know anything else."

"Not complicated, I just wasn't gonna be told to get lost again." Jason licked his lips, wiped away some more of the blood that had trickled down his face, and watched Eddie, looking for what he couldn't tell or whether Jason found it before he spoke again. "Cause everyone already knew, and I didn't think you'd care anyway, ya think anybody else did?" He scoffed, then cleared his throat, it didn't make his voice any less hoarse. "I was dismissed as the bad one before I was even cold in my grave, even the people I thought were my family just replaced me and moved on." He shook his head. "Nobody missed me, and even if they did, they don't want me now, that's my fault, but..." He sighed and scrubbed a hand roughly through his hair, turning it from moderately tidy to a complete mess of curls as he turned back to the all of the building he'd been tackled off of. "Go home Eddie, you wouldn't understand, you wouldn't understand."

"Yeah Jayce, cause it's not like I could possibly understand what it's like when your family doesn't want you, and it's all your fault, right."

A flinch, easily visible stopped Jason dead in his tracks, his hand already halfway to his grapple gun. He let out another sigh, longer and wearier than the first, then he spun on his heel and jabbed his finger at Eddie. "That's bullshit and you know it! Your parents are the pair of asscheeks making up the biggest ass in whatever place is at the mercy of them sitting down now, that's not your fault."

Eddie could see his eyes now, and now he took note, they were three shades too green from the grey he remembered, but there was no other difference, and there were still streaks glistening on his face..

Eddie reached around Spoiler to grab Jason's outstretched hand and tugged him closer, Jason yelled, started to push away, stopped when Eddie didn't try to strangle him again and let Eddie pull him into a hug, but left his arms hanging by his sides.

"I wouldn't have told you to get lost." Eddie said softly, then winced slightly when he added. "Andm'sorryIbrokeyournose."

"Needed something to clear my head after all those months of universe jumping bullshit."Jason let his head drop to Eddie's shoulder, he returned the hug very briefly, then pulled away. "But listen, we really can't be here right now." He peered out at the darkened buildings across the street.

"Why is there something wrong?" Eddie shifted so he was blocking Jason off from whatever it was he was looking for there.

"It's the Bowery at night." Jason shook his head and stepped out from behind Eddie. "And," he gripped the edges of his jacket and tilted his head, "it's a little awkward with you friend right over there."

Eddie turned quickly to where Spoiler seemed to be trying to melt into a wall. "Right." He chuckled nervously and stepped just outside of Jason's personal bubble, and he thought he head what might have been a 'thank God' from Spoiler's direction. "This is Spoiler, she's the one who told me you were back when she found out I didn't know. She's cool."

"And tagged along to make sure you weren't murdered by the reverse grave robber, huh?"

"And she doesn't like it when people talk about her like she 's not here too." Spoiler crossed her arms, and leaned forward, even with the mask covering her face, Eddie could tell she was staring Jason down. "Remind me again which of you I kept from getting murdered tonight, Mister Reverse Grave Robber?"

"Aren't you s'posed to be dead?" Jason asked, bending nearer to her.

"Look who's talking." She scoffed at him.

"Ha." Jason hitched his shoulders and blinked down at her, then back to Eddie. "If you say she's cool."

"Okay, you two don't look like you're going to kill each other any more, can I go now?" She said, rubbing pulling on her hood.

"You don't have to." Eddie said. "Right Jayce?" If she hadn't told him, he'd probably never have found out about Jason, and it wasn't fair to cut her out now, especially considering that no one told her things either.

"Actually, we should all go now. Bowery. Night." Jason started walking backward down the street. "Come on, there's this place a couple blocks up that wont pay too much attention to either of you."

"Yeah okay." Eddie started following after Jason, then stopped to ask Spoiler, "You coming?"

"I'm already here, so might as well." She shrugged, and fell into step with Eddie. "Long as there's no more strangling."

"I'm still kinda mad, so maybe be on the look out for that." Eddie swung an arm around Jason's shoulder and held up a finger in front of his face.

"Eddie, I still have a gun." Jason rolled his eyes, but didn't throw Eddie's arm off.

"If you shot me you wouldn't have any friends." Eddie pointed out and Jason sighed wearily.

"Don't worry too much, m'still here to protect you." Spoiler patted his back.

"Y'know, I changed my mind, think Ima just go home." Jason tried to shuffle his way out from between the two of them.

"No your not, you still need to tell me about the universe jumping thing, hot damn that's cool." Eddie tightened the arm around Jason's shoulders.

"Good gracious that's a long story." Jason raised his eyes heavenward. "Last time I ever go to a funeral."

#jason todd #stephanie brown #eddie bloomberg #fanfiction #mine

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aweirdkindofyellow · 3 years

Text

The Royal Invitation, Pt.17

Aerowyn Matilde George Rothchester might seem like a very long name, but it definitely is not for a royal in the Kingdom of Dalewin.

After her grandfather, the beloved king, passed away, Aerowyn (also known as Winny) is called back from her art school in New York. She’s thrown back into her royal duties, expected to know what to do.

But with the Royal advisor on tour with the new king, Winny is left to figure things out with his stepson. The only problem, he has no idea what he’s doing, after all he’s only the lead singer in a band.

Co-written story with @scream-tears.

Chapter 17

Winny’s POV:

I rolled out of the bunk, landing on the floor with a light thud. The carpet angrily scratched at the back of my bare leg as I laid there, staring up at the ceiling. Although the lights were on inside, the main light source came from the back lounge window. A shadow stood over me, making me crane my neck back a little to see who it was. It was only Matt, looking as busy as ever but still having the time to raise his eyebrow at me. I could only give him an overly cheesy grin back before he stepped over my body to get to the front of the bus.

You see, I couldn’t roll out of my own bunk. That would have been a proper safety issue. It wouldn’t have been a light thud, it would have been a floor shaking thump, a possible concussion, and if the angle was right, maybe even a broken bone. But Jack’s bunk? That one was close to the floor. If anything, rolling out of the bunk was more efficient than climbing out.

By now, it was pretty obvious to everyone what was going on between Jack and me. Nobody explicitly spoke about it. Or at least not to me. But everyone knew. Jack and I weren’t exactly discrete about it. We didn’t necessarily put it out there either. We just often happened to disappear at the same time and leave the same random room a bit later. It was pretty easy to put one and one together.

I got up and brushed myself down to rid myself of floor lint. Although all the guys on this bus loved walking around in just their boxers or less, I did still try to cover up a little. I did still have some decency. So, I went to the bunk that had my suitcases in it to find something to wear. The pair of jeans on the top of the pile reeked of beer and were quickly thrown to the side. I scavenged for something else, but was met with the horrific discovery that I had absolutely nothing to wear anymore. Everything needed a wash.

I quickly spun around to find another solution. The shirt I was wearing could work for the day, but I could not get away with spending the day in just my panties. Especially outside of the bus. Luckily, I happened to see a pair of blue sweatpants sticking out from Alex’s belongings and put them on.

Once I was covered up, I walked into the front lounge, where Alex and Rian were sitting at the table. Alex’s eyes immediately fixated on my lower half.

“Are those my pants?” He asked with a horrified tone.

“Yeah,” I nodded back, “you spilled beer over my last pair of jeans last night, remember?”

“I did?” He frowned in confusion. “Oh, wait, yes I did.”

“Anyway, can anybody tell me where we are so I can figure out where to do my laundry?”

“New York,” Alex shrugged as a reply.

Electricity ran through my entire body in excitement. “New York as is New York City New York, or the state New York?”

“Both.”

“You mean to tell me I can go home to do my laundry?!” I beamed. Not only did I love New York City and seeing some familiar places, but doing my laundry just the way I liked it sounded like a perfect comfort to have on tour in a smelly tour bus.

“Home?” Rian questioned.

“Yeah…” My eyes widened at how easily I had slipped up as I tried to think of a cover up. To be fair, I knew Matilde as an art student in New York, not some stable girl at the royal palace of Dalewin. “Dalewin’s a summer job. I spend the rest of my time in New York being a student.”

He gasped jokingly. “Damn, how much do they pay you for you to afford that?!”

“Umm,” I had to come up with yet another lie on the spot. But I found a way to bend the truth. “They sort of sponsor me in a way.”

“Can I come work with you?” He luckily kept it very light, but was also being half serious.

“You can try to ask the royal family, but don’t ask the princess. She’s a real bitch.”

“Is she?’ He sounded unsure of whether I was joking back or if I meant it, and pulled out his phone. Immediately, alarm bells started going off in my head.

“You don’t have to google them, Alex and I are experts,” I blurted out. Alex didn’t even notice what was happening at first, but his head snapped towards Rian as if he had just hit a self destruct button.

“A wikipedia page!” Rian announced in delight, but then his face dropped. “Oh, it’s a shitload of text to read. But there’s a family tree!.

I was waiting for Alex to do something. To grab the phone and throw it out of the window or something. But no, he was just sitting there in shock. It was just a matter of time before he would find a picture of me. I didn’t know what the wikipedia page looked like, but there were definitely recent images of the family because of my grandfather's death online.

“Aerowyn Matilde George Rothchester…’ Rian read out loud. “Sounds– hey, Matilde. Same name! What are the odds?”

“Like there aren’t any William’s, Henry’s, or Charles’ in the UK.” I managed to roll my eyes nonchalantly despite freaking out on the inside. “If anything, I’m sure there are many girls with any of those names my age or younger.”

“Original… anyway–” He went to go find out some more. “My phone’s dead.”

Relief washed over me. It was so close. Actually, I was kind of surprised that I hadn’t been googled by any of them before. I mean, we did have Mark. But he was the only one so far. Or the only one who had made his knowledge known. Maybe Dalewin just seemed too small and irrelevant for anybody to want to know more about. Except Mark. He liked his random facts about random things.

“Well,” I clapped my hands together and gave a big grin, “I gonna go do my laundry today then.”

Before Rian could try to change the subject back to the forbidden knowledge, I skipped back to the bunks and started to go through the messy pile of clothes I had, trying to at least organise it a little so it would fit in my suitcase to take back to my apartment. It wasn’t exactly the nicest thing having to fold up dirty socks, sweaty t-shirts, and bear-soaked jeans, but it was necessary.

“What’s going on over here?” Jack suddenly appeared behind me, a little too close for people that were just friends.

“I’ve got no more clothes,” I giggled lightly, practically feeling his energy bouncing off my skin.

“Oh, what a shame,” he sighed in mock empathy.

“But I get to go home and do my laundry today.”

“Home?”

I interrupted, “don’t even ask. I usually live here, summers are for Dalewin.”

“Well,” he dropped the subject, “would you like some company? I think I might have some of my own laundry lying around.”

“I could always use an extra pair of hands,” I exhaled loudly as if I was complaining. “I’ve got so much to wash. I even have to wear the good stuff now.”

When Jack saw me pull out the red lingerie set I hadn’t worn yet this tour, he was completely sold. “I am definitely coming with you.”

It was just over half an hour later that we were ready to go. If I had been the only one to go, I would have left way sooner. But I had been courteous and extended the offer to the others. Surprisingly, not many people took up on it. The crew were mainly too busy to quickly get their stuff together. But Rian and Alex did decide to grasp this opportunity.

“We’re gonna go now,” I announced with my bag in tow.

“I left my stuff at the door,” Rian responded, jerking his thumb in the direction of a black duffle bag.

While I nodded, Alex jumped up, “lemme just get my bag.”

Jack and I waited at the door for Alex to bring whatever he wanted to get washed. I picked up Rian’s duffle bag since he wasn’t going to be joining himself. After all, I did ask if anybody wanted me to take their laundry along, not whether they wanted to join. So, I was also fully expecting Alex to drop his stuff at either my or Jack’s feet. But he just kept his stuff on him and nodded to signal that he was ready.

“Oh, you don’t need to come along, we can just take everybody’s laundry,” I quickly told him.

He shook his head. “No it’s cool, I’ll carry it myself. You’ve already got a lot and it’s quite heavy.”

“No, really, it’s cool, it’s probably going to take the whole day.”

“That’s cool, I wanted to see some of New York anyway, I can do that while waiting.”

Although I did want to continue to try to get him to leave us, I knew it wasn’t going to work. Jack and I shared a look, and we both knew it. So, I gave in and let him come along. You can bet I tried multiple times to shake him off on the way to my apartment by telling him what things he could see if he wanted to leave at that moment. Not because I didn’t want to go sightseeing with him or because I didn’t want him to see my apartment. Just because Jack and I already had plans for what we’d be doing.

But he came with us all the way to my apartment.

He was even standing right behind me and I was grabbing my mail from my mailbox on the ground floor. It was almost as if he was reading along with me. The letters really weren’t all that interesting. Mainly bills addressed to me, Matilde. I got them all online as well, so they weren’t really relevant.

We went up the stairs all the way to the top floor since the building didn’t have an elevator. Granted, I lived on the third floor (UK third, not US third), so it wasn’t that bad. The building just happened to be an old industrial building. Not exactly a place for elevators.

I unlocked the glossy dark green door and opened it. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“Fuck, you live here?!” Jack’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as we walked in. Alex wasn’t as fazed though.

“Yeah, lot’s of natural light for all my painting.” I pointed at the large windows that spanned over two floors.

Living at the very top of the building had some perks, including getting the loft. The large open space was mainly used as my studio. There were materials scattered around including used canvases and canvases yet to be built. My kitchen was relatively small for the size of the apartment, but it was still new. I just wanted more space for my art than for cooking. My bedroom was up the metal and wood stairs.

“Here’s the room of the hour,” I opened a small hidden door that revealed my washing machine and dryer. “Or should I say of the day. It’s going to take quite a while to do all these loads.”

“Speaking of which, we should probably get started soon,” Jack urged.

I nodded in agreement and dragged my suitcase to the washing machine. Luckily, I had already organised which clothes I needed to keep away from colours and which ones were delicates, meaning I could stuff everything in relatively quickly.

“You should really just go sightseeing if you want to still do that,” I told Alex while I sat on my knees to get everything out. “I’ll stay here to do all the laundry.”

“I feel bad for just leaving,” he chuckled and shook his head.

“I don’t have anything to entertain you with here. No food, no drinks. Nothing.”

“Then it’s even worse to leave you here by yourself!”

“She’ll have me,” Jack shrugged, trying to give Alex a look to get him to leave.

Alex frowned in confusion. “You guys don’t want to come with me? I can see New York another time.”

Jack sighed in frustration. We had been trying to give hints to Alex ever since we left that bus, but he either didn’t understand or was trying to be way too oblivious. Either way, it was starting to get on our nerves. And Jack had enough. He carefully took Alex to the side and tried to convince him one last time.

I tried to listen in as much as I could without raising suspicions. But whenever I threw something into the washing machine, the voices drowned out. I couldn’t stop throwing things in, or else they’d know. But I could hear the words such as “seeing”, “a bit’, and the all mighty “cockblock”.

“Oh…” Alex sucked in a breath.

It was quiet for a second after that, the only sound coming from my clothes hitting the drum.

“I’ll go see some sights then…” He suddenly said louder so I could hear as well. But he also sounded so unsure. “I guess… Thanks for– thanks for doing my laundry, then. Umm, I’ll be off.”

And with that, he left. The door shut just a little harder than he probably intended to. That pesky door looked heavier than it was.

#all time low fanfiction #Alex Gaskarth fanfiction #jack barakat fanfiction #all time low imagines #alex gaskarth imagine #jack barakat imagine #The Royal Invitation #fanfiction

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